California Dreamin'
by Anotherjaneway
Summary: Vacation off the mainland proves work never ends for the gang of 51's. Mike Stoker faces the scare of his life.


This is a text version of the original still airing imaged, music soundtracked story.

Emergency Theater Live, Episode

. Season - Episode Short summary-  
Vacation off the mainland proves work never ends for the gang of 51's. Mike Stoker faces the scare of his life.

****WARNING**** The long summary to come is very story spoiling and will take away plot surprises if you read it now before reading the longer story below it.

Decide now if you want to read this episode's detailed summary before doing so.

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Long Summary-  
The gang suffers under a night of no calls. They mull over the energy crisis and the nitpicking starts in earnest between Chet and Johnny. Johnny hits on the idea of going to Catalina Island. Station 51 responds to a man with an altered level of consciousness at the supermarket.  
They find a druggie and Stoker soon finds his gun pointed at him in an isolated moment. After the crisis is over, Stoker blacks out and is treated for shock. Detective Ron Crockett shows up at the station to get more details about the weapon drawn incident and ruffles a few feathers. Roy meets his son Chris and his own father Ian on the island, who're there to do some cessna flying. Chet pulls a disappearing cliff diving act as a joke on Stoker. Chris gets a lesson on Catalina aviation from his grandfather, Ian DeSoto. Kelly goes gliding. Marco follows,  
tandem strapped to his guide, Kip, in his own glider. A wind gust flips Marco and Kip and they crash into a tree. Cap grows alarmed at the lack of radio from Marco and Chet mounts an airborne search. Kelly spots the downed glider and radios camp about it, then he goes in for a landing. Gage launches in another glider after dark to Avalon to round up some emergency help. Chet discovers a snake bite on Marco's leg and treats him in a fire warmed cave. Stanley flies at dawn in a Baywatch helicopter with Roy and Johnny and effect their rescue. They all meet the island's sole, but colorful, nurse and doctor pair at the hospital.  
A storm approaches and the doc offers the gang his house for shelter.  
Ian and Chris's plane gets lightning struck and makes an emergency landing at the airport with Avalon's FD on standby on the runway.  
Ian and Marco remain behind when the others go to the beach. They find and rescue two divers in trouble and take them by Baywatch boat to a decompression chamber. Later, they fully relax at the doc's house.

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The Story Unfolds...

Season Five, Episode Thirty Three.  
California Dreamin' Debut Launch: May 1st, 2006.

Portions of this episode owes original writing credit to Terry Erwin of All American Television, Baywatch Productions, Episode 'Old Friends', Season One. 1991.

*  
From: "Roxy Dee" Date: Wed May 3, 2006 5:11 pm Subject: The Wall Crawling Remedy~~

It was a slow afternoon at Station 51.

The whole gang had long ago given up newpapers and checkerboards and were falling into round two of aimless television watching and taking catnaps whereever they happened to be sprawled around the rec room.

The only three people showing signs of active animation were Johnny,  
Roy and Chet. The tinny volume from the station's cheap television set held them rivetted, nonetheless.

"Would you look at that?!" Gage exclaimed in exasperation at the current news story. "People are just nuts these days, I'm telling ya." he said throwing a careless hand at the television screen.

A news broadcast was showing footage after footage of people waiting in line at the gas pumps to fill their trucks and automobiles at filling stations across the nation.

"Now that is just plain craziness.. We're not out of gas yet, so why the ridiculously high prices?" Johnny wanted to know.

"Aw, Gage. Don't you know how politicians work these days? They're probably taking hand offs from all the big oil companies to look the other way. And while that's going on, it's the average guys like us who have to own up to their tabs by paying them out through our gas tanks." Chet summed up.

"I don't know.." said Roy thoughtfully as he crunched a carrot from a plateful of cut veggies and dip. "They say this is a true energy crisis going on because of the oil embargo overseas. I'm not so sure this is just gas gouging."  
Desoto frowned. "It'll probably blow over in a couple of weeks."

"Easy for you to say.." said Johnny with exasperation as he sat up to steal a peanut buttered celery stalk from Roy's snack table. "You've got just a tiny sports convertible to worry about."

"Hey.." protested Roy. "Go get your own!" when he missed grabbing Gage's stealing hand.

Johnny ignored him, chewing happily. "You guys don't own a gas hog like I do. My rover costs me twelve whole dollars to fill sometimes."

Chet just leaned back in his kitchen chair turned cock-eyed toward the TV and stretched."Yeah, well that's what we monkeys get for digging in the dirt and depending ourselves and most of our machines on a fossilized mineral slime. I say we deserve what we get."

"Oh, that's deep... that's really--" began Johnny with irritation.

"Would you guys keep it down a little?" asked a sleepy, booming voice from behind them. "Stoker and I are trying to get some shuteye in the bunkroom. We heard you guys commenting on things from the peanut gallery all the way over there.." grumbled Captain Stanley loudly. He wasn't yawning.

Johnny was so startled that he started slipping over backwards from the two rear chair legs he was balancing on by the bookshelf.

Hank had no sympathy for him when he finally lost the battle over gravity and thunked over, bruising his tailbone. "Ow, d*mmit! Why did you have to startle me like that?" Johnny fumed.

"I'll try harder to tip toe next time, just for you." said Cap disappearing back into the garage, heading for his bed. "In the meantime, pipe down, ok?"

Kelly just smirked as he watched Roy get up to help Johnny right his chair and himself from his undignified heap on the floor."Anything startles you, these days, Johnny. That's because you're always wound up like a top from drinking too much coffee."

The body on the couch laughed out loud. It was Marco.  
"That much is pure fact."

DeSoto glared at Lopez. Then he looked down.  
"You ok?" Roy asked his partner. "You didn't hit your head, did you?"

Gage nodded no. "I managed to keep my neck up."

Chet mocked with a newscaster sounding voice. "That hollow sound we all heard, folks, was just the skinny rack of bones Gage calls for a body coming to a complete stop." Then he took on normal tones. "Should be familiar enough to you by now, Roy. He always gets into mishaps these days. At least once a week on the job by my reckoning."

"Very funny. I'm not going to even dignify that with a comment." Johnny said,  
rubbing his rear.

"It's true.." insisted Chet. "We can always give Rampart a call and get the official tally to see if I'm right."

"Oh, why don't you just shut up for once!"  
Fed up, Johnny exited the room, moving to the equipment closet with alacrity as he searched yet again for something worthwhile and productive to do. He ended up grabbing a still clean and full mop bucket and he started scrubbing the floor in the corner by the front glass entryway door and Cap's office with angry sloshes and wringouts.

His amusement wiping away, Roy followed him out into the vehicle bay. "Wanna talk about it?" he said eventually, leaning up against the squad's bumper.

"No. Nothing to talk about." said Gage tersely.

Roy bit his lip. "Come on, Johnny. I know you better than that. What's your problem? I'm a good listener, maybe I can figure something out for you..."

"Now that's it right there, pal. Why does everybody think they always have the answers for me?!" Johnny said, splashing his mop back into the wash bucket so agressively that Boot ansed away from the spreading puddle he was checking out with curiosity. "Sorry, Boot." snapped Johnny. Then he continued. "If it's not suggestions on how to manage my love life, it's razzing about how klutzy I am when things aren't actually my fault at all in the first place.."

Roy respectfully stayed quiet while Johnny ranted.

"That snake bite wasn't my fault, neither was that monkey virus or my broken leg last year. The only incident I can recall that was entirely my mistake was reaching into that car in the L.A. river bed and cutting my hand wide open.  
That.. was my fault.." spattered Johnny. "I wasn't wearing my fire gloves."

DeSoto decided not to mention that soap foam was getting sprayed onto his shoes and pants legs. "Don't let Kelly get the best of ya. Why don't you always do what you normally do to defuse him and craft a joke or two to play on him? You always get the best of him. Well, every time except for that once when the Phantom wars were going on."

Johnny didn't even look up from his rapid, irritated floor scrubbing. "That's not even an option any more, Roy. Because, I'm sick and tired of stooping down to his level just to control him.."

Roy's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head earlier?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake." exasperated Johnny. "Now even you won't take me literally anymore. Do me a favor.. Just go away."

"All right.." said Roy, getting stung. "I will. Enjoy your tantrum. I was just trying to help out. Geez.." DeSoto said, moving around the squad's front end to get to the equipment stow. He dragged out the defibrillator case and the biophone to do a telemetry check. He hooked up the antennae after he had the defib paddles charged on their metal test plate and made his call. "Rampart, this is Squad 51 for an afternoon Tetronix check, EKG and live paddles."

The two paramedics made it a production of not looking at each other.

Dixie's voice came over the line. ##Squad 51, we read you loud and clear.  
We're set for your signal and shock.##

"Rampart, this'll be a lead II calibration, followed by a 100 watt shock!"  
Roy yelled at her, slamming the phone down on the squad's roof to turn a dial.  
Then he waited to hit the shock buttons.

##Squad 51, your strip's coming through as testing all channels. Go ahead#  
she told him, her puzzled tone at the anger in his voice apparent.

Sighing loudly, DeSoto placed the paddles on the test plate and fired them off.

##Cardioversion's registering properly, 51.## she said no nonsense to get him to shape up mood wise without using other words.

"10-4, Rampart. Squad 51, over and out." Roy said softly apologetic to her.  
Then he hung up the phone receiver back into its red metal case and latched it shut.

Johnny paused in his furious mopping. "Leave those charged up for me, would ya? I'd like to use them on Chet's head.."

DeSoto made a face, and put the EKG and defibrillator cases away. He then drew out the resuscitation apparatus and a clean rag from the stow. He turned on the oxygen flow and tested the mask on himself at the middle liter delivery rate. It was patent. Satisfied, he turned it off and wiped out the inside of the rubber face mask with a flourish. "Sounds like we all need a vacation.." he told Johnny with an angry mumble.

Gage glommed onto that idea eagerly, suddenly very unangry and excited.  
"That's it. That's it right there.. I don't think any of us has gone on one since last Christmas, and it's what? Mid-May now?"

"Yep." said a confused Roy at Johnny's sudden about face mood change.  
He added the drug box to his array of gear to check out on the floor.  
He started to inventory their whole set of supplies against a check marked laminated card stuck with a magnet to the ceiling of the gear stow compartment. "Maybe we SHOULD just get away somehow. You know, re-bond with each other or something. It might do away with some of this wall climbing we've been doing lately."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that any of us needs to do that, Roy. It's more like, needing to do another activity that's not so my-life-depends-on-you-to-do-  
the-right-thing kind of thing." Johnny said, slowing down his mopping thoughtfully.

It was the calmest Roy had seen him since he fell out of his chair.

DeSoto smacked his lips in agreement. "Ok, where can we go that's cheap enough so the gas prices won't kill us off?" DeSoto asked.

"I don't know.. Uh,..Up north for a little skiing?"

DeSoto shook his head. "Stoker, Cap and Marco hate the cold. That's why they moved to California."

"How about a little mountain fishing then?" Gage threw out.

"Nope. We've gone twice and have gotten saddled with medical emergencies happening. And thoroughly stuck with saving all the locals.."

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten." Then his face brightened. "I know.. why don't we all go to a hiking camp? We've never done that before."

"Where is there a park that's close?" DeSoto asked. "The nearest state park I know of is in Santa Rosa County."

"We don't have to go far to find someplace really good, Roy. The place I'm thinking of is only twenty two miles away." Johnny asked.

"Where's that?" asked DeSoto, scratching his chin.

Johnny pointed westward, out the open garage door. "Catalina Island, pal. Didn't the Catalina Island Conservancy finally buy up the whole interior to save it for posterity and all the wildlife?"

"Yeah, I think they did it last year. They're putting in another pier eventually."  
Roy said.

"Then why don't we go there? It's close, wild, and as far away from firefighting as you can get."

"I don't know, Johnny. Does everybody even have camping equipment handy?"

"If they don't, we know we both do. We can share with em. And maybe we can even get in some rented hang gliding time, too. All you need are a pair of inexpensive permits to go inside Catalina so the Coast Guard knows that you're there. Dead easy to set up."

Roy looked skeptical at his partner, pausing in his count of paper sealed narcotic syringes. "I'm still not so sure that's the best idea." he said thoughtfully.

"Roy, why not go? We can go for just a couple of days. Let's set it up for the middle of next week. We all have that stretch off anyway for that firefighter convention L.A. ended up cancelling on us." Gage said. "Boring time to get unintentional leave, for there's no live ball games set on the bill for then. There'll be nothing for anybody to do except sit at home and twiddle some thumbs."

::Spoken like a true bachelor..:: mused Roy. Then he spoke up again.  
"Ok,..I'm in. I'll leave it up to you to approach the guys since going to the island was your idea. I'm gonna be there anyway, because Chris's gonna be touring with his grandpa by plane who's a pilot by trade."

"Is he now?" Gage grinned with surprise.

"I've already been made to promise that I'll let those two fly around by themselves on all the fair weather days."

"What about Joanne and your youngest?" asked Johnny.

"My daughter's not into that kind of thing. She'd rather stay home and be domestic." DeSoto smiled. "And-and Joanne's simply content just being with her, too, while she studies her english writing and takes ballet."

"Then it's settled. We're all going for an excursion into the great wild out of doors. It's gonna be fun, Roy. I just know it."

DeSoto returned a mildly excited grin. "I think you're right. I can't wait. Now the guys'll finally be able to meet some of my family. Chris's sure growing up fast these days."

-  
Photo: The gang watching tv all together.

Photo: Chet, Roy and Johnny by the TV and playing games.

Photo: Gage mopping the bay aggressively.

Photo: Roy and Johnny checking the drug box in the bay.

Photo: Catalina Island and a ferry.

Photo: A rural beach on Catalina Island.

Photo: Cap listening to a rope tying Johnny and Chet.

*  
From : Cory Anda Sent : Monday, May 22, 2006 11:26 PM Subject : Turn About..

It was three hours later and Johnny was impressed that the rest of the gang actually warmed to the idea of a camping getaway.

Chet had a few words on that matter. "I'll go as long as you pay for my ferry, camping and hang glider fees. I'm strapped for cash this week because of paying property taxes, remember?"

Gage scowled. "All right. Fine." he replied from where he was regarding Boot with intense, feigned disinterested scrutiny.  
"I'll pick up your part of the fees. Are you happy now?" he said, without looking away from the shaggy, equally eye to eye glaring station dog.

Kelly didn't answer him. Instead, he made a face. "What are you doing to him?" Chet asked about Johnny's studying an increasingly emotional, uncomfortable Boot.

Gage rubbed his face with frowning irritation. "I'm trying to figure out why Boot doesn't seem to like me."

Roy snorted around his sipping from a coffee mug. "Maybe that's why he doesn't like ya."

Johnny ignored both his coworkers and reached out a hand absently to stroke Boot's head.

The dog gave a short growl of warning as he immediately leaped down off the kitchen chair he had been sitting on and fled for another part of the station.

"See?" Gage scoffed, throwing a hand in the direction Boot had departed.

Marco had some sympathy. "I don't know, Johnny. I've seen you and Boot squaring off over nothing through three of his station visits now and I still can't believe you two aren't getting along."

Captain Stanley offered up his view. "Maybe you're just trying too hard with him, Gage. Try acting like you're his best friend. Spoil him a little."

"I do. I do.." Johnny insisted, pouring himself a cup of coffee from Roy's pot grumpily. "I bought him a bone from the butcher's last week, didn't I? And what did he do? He buried it out in the yard out back and peed on it."

Kelly and Cap and Roy chuckled.

Stoker said. "Maybe he was saving it for later by marking his territory."

Lopez was a bundle of suggestions, too. "What do you expect, Johnny?  
A bone's pretty slim pickings when you consider that he's probably used to getting stuffed on beef fillets from the firefighters in all the other stations he goes to see on his neighborhood rounds."

Johnny refused to be appeased. "Maybe I should go in there right now.." he said, jerking a thumb at the doorway leading to the apparatus bay,.."and drag a rope around in an invitation to play."

"Good luck." coughed Hank. "You can't just pick and choose your friends, Johnny, and expect them to reciprocate. They have to pick you, too. It's a two way street."

"Well in Boot's case. It's more like a dead end alley." sighed Johnny.

Roy looked up from his plate of nachos and smiled. "Why don't you give Boot a little more time? I think he might be like a cat in this case. If you ignore him completely, he'll hate it and double over backwards to become pals with you."

"You think so?" Gage asked, brightening.

"I know so." said Chet from the couch. "That's what worked for me."

"Chet, you don't know anything. I don't know why I should even listen to y---" Gage mumbled through tight, angry lips.

The station tones went off.

##Station 51. Altered level reported on a man at the supermarket.  
1719 South Caine. 1719 South Caine. Cross street Burnett. Time out :  
9:56.## reported L.A.

The whole gang leaped out of their seats and ran for their vehicles.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the way to the call, Gage rubbed his chin around his helmet's strap. "Which kind of rescue call is worse, Roy? This one were going on right now? Or whenever we roll on a domestic disturbance?"

"It's hard to say." said DeSoto tracking the traffic around them as he drove the squad through busy intersections. "More of a toss up. I guess it depends on what the situation happens to be in the first place. If it's just two newlyweds having their first dish throwing argument, I don't ever have a problem with it. But if it's ever kids getting used as a punching bag..." he let his words trail off.

"Yeah." said Gage, sighing. "I'm hoping our man's just some bum for the drunk tank. I'm not in the mood for any excitement this morning."

Roy looked over at his partner. "Don't tell me Boot's starting to bother you. Boot's just being.. well, Boot. Nothing to eat your stomach out over."

"That's easy for you to say. He lets you pet him." Gage glared.

A blast on the airhorn from the Ward LaFrance behind them made both paramedics look into their sideview mirrors quickly.

"Huh.. I wonder what Cap wants." Johnny said as he got the hint to switch over to their station's private truck to truck band. "Go ahead, Cap." he said into the hand radio mic.

##I just got off the horn with L.A.P.D. They're gonna be delayed getting to our call for at least five minutes. Looks like we're gonna be the ones first in. They have a 211 in progress at the bank a mile down the road.##

"Ok, Cap. Thanks for the heads up." replied Johnny and he switched back to the station dispatching channel on the main frequency.  
"So much for peaceful Sunday mornings." he grumped.

"Look on the bright side, Johnny. We're not working a useless junkyard fire or anything." DeSoto grinned.

"Shhh.." Gage hissed. "Or you'll jinx us for real."

Roy lifted a puzzled face. "Now how does that work?" he whispered to himself as he gripped the steering wheel more tightly for a turn off the freeway.

Soon, they were there.

It wasn't hard spotting where to park the squad and engine. A grocery store manager wearing a bright yellow produce apron was standing in the middle of the widest part of the parking lot, surrounded by a couple of bag carrying housewives, gossipping about some spectacle unfolding right in front of them.

Roy and Johnny pulled up into the middle of all of them while Stoker angled the Ward to block off the avenue's entrance to give themselves working room without a fresh crowd of cars being able to pull in.

A squat Asian man in a long oversized gray T-shirt and very baggy black demin pants was seated in a wheel chair, out in the open, flailing his feet and arms like a palsy case. A pair of black sandals had been kicked off his bare feet and lay on the pavement.

No one else seemed to want to go near him.

"Handicapped? Doesn't look like a seizure." puzzled Johnny as he and Roy got out of their light flashing squad to pull their medical gear.

DeSoto rushed ahead and crouched down by the man, locking the chair's wheel brakes for safety to stop the man's aimless random spinning in the wheelchair. He lightly touched the man's still jerking, restless knee."Sir..? I'm Roy DeSoto, a paramedic from the Los Angeles Fire Department. This is my partner, Johnny Gage. Can you understand me? What seems to be the problem here?" he asked, sniffing breath coming from the man.

The twenty something youth didn't seem to be able to focus on faces for very long but Roy found no sign of alcohol on the wind.

Their patient smiled.  
"Hey.. whaz up? I...uh,..I..don't wanna cause.. I'm just trying to.. I..I.." he slurred.  
He continued to writhe rhythmically in the seat, like an impaired invalid.

Captain Stanley, standing nearby, had removed his helmet. He cocked it under an arm. "Want the O2?" he asked Roy.

DeSoto shook his head. "I don't think his confusion's new. Maybe a pre-existing condition. There doesn't appear to be any bruises on him." he said, carefully studying the man. He fell into orientation questions. "Sir,..can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm..I'm at the super-- supermarket.." he twitched, still smiling and gyrating his arms and legs slowly with dyskinesia.

Johnny wrapped a blood pressure cuff around the man's arm. "What day is it?"

"Saturday.." he guessed wrong.

Gage and Roy exchanged significant looks.

"And the time?" Roy said, taking the man's pulse.

"Three thirty... I.. look.. I wanted to get some pizza.. Is that a crime?" asked the fuzzy man in mild cooperation. His smile wavered from blandness then back to an absent grin, in wavering cycles.

Roy tried to get the man to focus on him visually with a penlight but he couldn't seem to connect with him long enough to hold eye to eye contact. "Ok.. it's all right. We're here to help you out, mister. Just try to relax. Do you have any I.D on you? We're gonna need one for our report so we can treat you."

"S--Sure." said the small Asian man in the white baseball cap. "Here." he fumbled into a front pants pocket for a nylon wallet. He couldn't grip it too well, so Roy helped get it out so they could read it. "Victor Yang Lu Ngyuen from 123 Hwy. 101 North in Escondido. There's also his birthdate. March 7th, 1955." he said, passing it off to Johnny who had completed an initial set of vitals.

Gage looked up. "Cap, could you ask around a bit on how he was found? Looks like he might be tripped out on something. There's no medical alert info or any old prescriptions in his wallet."

"Sure thing, pal." said Hank.

The store manager soon piped up. "He came into one of the side entrances of my store asking for a wheelchair, saying that his legs didn't work too well.  
So one of the cashiers gave him one. He was doing fine fellas, shopping and reaching down groceries ok. But then he started talking loudly to himself and spinning around like a space case. Made a mess of my cereal aisle when he dropped a jar of tomato paste. So we got him to pay, brought him out here, and then we called both you guys and the cops.." said the manager mildly.

"You did the right thing. He's not himself." reassured Roy as he read the vital signs Johnny had written down. "Thank you for calling. We got it from here.  
Would you mind getting all these people to step back a little. The ambulance is gonna have to have some room to get through here."

"Oh, sure.." said the manager and he began loudly herding up the curious housewives and other car parked folks drawn to the spectacle of a crew of firefighters ringed around a limb flailing man in a wheelchair. "Come on, folks. Go home or into the store. Nothing to see. Get outta here. Give the man some privacy ok? You're gawking like a gaggle of geese. Shoo.." he said, waving water wrinkled hands at them.

The crowd dispersed.

Cap got on his handy talkie. "L.A. this is Engine 51. We've one male victim in a parking lot possibly being effected by a controlled or illegal substance. Respond an ambulance to our location. Do you have an ETA on P.D. to our scene?"

##Engine 51, this is L.A...A squad unit reports three minutes. I have sent an ambulance crew to your twenty. Their ETA is one minute.##

Cap looked up at the sound of approaching sirens. "10-4. Engine 51 out."

Mike Stoker moved the drug box nearer to Gage's knee. "Want me to set up an I.V.?"

"Yeah. String up a 500 ml of normal saline in case the doctor orders some precautionary Narcan. Roy'll have his instructions in a few seconds." said Johnny, watching as Roy hailed Rampart and gave his medical report to Dr. Early.

DeSoto set the phone on his shoulder and nodded at the sight of the bag Mike was tearing open with his teeth. "Yep. He wants it." Then he felt the man's skin. "It's hot, dry. Early thinks he may be suffering crystal meth overdose precursors."

Gage sighed. "Not another one. I sure hope the cops bust that hidden neighborhood lab around here soon or those dealers are gonna end up killing somebody for sure."

"Well, at least it's not gonna be him today.." said Roy, rubbing down a place on the man's arm not already riddled with track mark scars and shallow, self inflicted nail scratched pock marks.

The man continued to smile but didn't have the ability to hold still for his I.V. start. It took both Marco and Mike to hold his arm down long enough for the running inserted catheter to be taped firmly to an arm board.

Gage took another B.P. once the light Naloxone dose and a little IM Thiamine had been delivered. "Still up. 172 over 110. Pulse 130 and bounding.." he sighed.

"Early wants a glucose stick to rule out hyperglycemia." Roy told him.

"I'll get it." said Johnny reaching into the drug box at his feet. He moved aside long enough for the two newly arrived ambulance attendants to move their gurney close to the wheel chair. "Wait a second while we draw some blood for a glucose check. He's junked out, but cooperating."

Both the men nodded. They concentrated on preparing the low bed's sheets and blanket to receive their patient.

Roy read the strip on the glucometer once the blood drop had soaked through.  
"Normal. He's at 100. At least he's been eating here. Right, Mr. Ngyuen?"

"Yeah.. yeah.. had some salad. Wanted some pizza.. Did I get any?" he asked muzzily, still writhing restlessly in the wheelchair with slow jerks and starts. The smile returned, full and beaming.

Stoker had his hands full guarding the I.V. board which he held out in the air in front of the man's chest. "Yeah, you did. Take it easy, sir. Soon, you'll be at the hospital." he told him.

The man just grinned, his emotional reactions strangely child-like and at odds with the rest of his shimmeying body.

Soon, the man was stretched out onto the gurney and strapped in. Mike helped lower the man's head down onto the pillow. "Did anybody grab his sandals?"

"Yeah, I put them back on his feet." said Marco. "I gave him his I.D., too.  
His wallet's in his hand."

"Ok... Roy, I'll ride in with him." Gage said, after he completed patching the man's four limb leads into the EKG monitor. "He's only sinus tach with slightly elevated T waves."

"You sure?" asked DeSoto.

"Yeah, he's not gonna fight." Johnny said. "Just look at him." he grinned.

The man was humming and completely off into a deeper lala land.

"Ok,. I'll grab the squad." Roy said, retrieving his helmet off of the ground. He left for the truck to start its ignition.

Hank issued orders for Chet and Marco to clean up all the needle covers and paper wrappers off the ground while Gage and the attendants blanketed the man and gathered the medical gear together. Then Stanley asked, "Are we done here, Johnny? If so, I'll put the engine back into service."

"Yeah, we're done. Go on ahead, Cap. We'll be back at the station in twenty."

"Ok. I'll tell L.A. and P.D. that you're going ahead with transporting."  
said Cap. "Let's go, gang." he nodded at Chet, and Marco when they were through with their task.

Hank, Kelly and Lopez climbed into the engine and shut the doors.

"Stay with him a sec, Mike? We're gonna put this stuff into the ambulance." Johnny asked Stoker.

Stoker nodded, crouching down by the nearly sleeping man's head to monitor his breathing. Soon he was quite alone with him.

Then suddenly, it happened.

Mike blinked and found himself face to face with the muzzle end of a steely blue black .38 mm revolver, pointed at his nose.

And the gun was firmly in the hands of loopy, grinning, tripped out Mr. Ngyuen. "Like my piece, mister? It's my ab- absolute favorite. Just got it last week." he said proudly, still firmly lost somewhere in his addiction high and wearing his kindergartner smile.

Stoker's heart stopped in his throat and he froze in panic.

He found he could only squeak.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Chet, Stoker scoff at table.

Photo: Gage and Boot nose to nose.

Photo: Squad rushing through parking lot.

Photo: Johnny and Roy with full gear in parking lot.

Photo: Man in a wheel chair.

Photo: johnny sees Mayfair go.

Photo: Gun aimed at you.

Photo: Stoker with a shocked look, wearing helmet.

*  
From : Cassidy Meyers Sent : Thursday, May 25, 2006 7:07 PM Subject : Blink of An Eye..

Time seemed to stand still for Mike Stoker. ::Move!:: he thought desperately from someplace very small and deep inside of his head. ::That gun's right now and it's very, very real!:: Stoker struggled mentally through a thickening haze of tarry numbness and the most absolute, paralyzing fright that he had ever known.

Long, terrifying seconds etched themselves in time with perfect clarity in his mind.....the glint of shiny bullets cocked in the unspun barrel as they caught and trapped his gaze....that idiot stupid, mild smile still plastered on the ill man's face...

::I'm gonna die.:: shivered Stoker. Mike blinked a couple of times, drawing in a ragged breath, trying to talk.

Then the gun was gone, concealed once more drunkenly under a neatly belted blanket fold. The Asian youth actually yawned and folded two hands beneath his head.

Mike found his mouth had become icy and dry and he still couldn't speak at all when Johnny and the attendants returned to his side to start wheeling away their patient.

::Do something!:: Mike's mind raged, but he felt utterly helpless.  
There were still dozens of people in the area in close range of the gurney. ::But what?! :: another part of himself demanded. ::Somebody's gonna get shot if we try to restrain him. He might go superhuman on us if it's PCP he's on.::

His legs locked, Mike could only watch as the man was casually loaded up into the Mayfair ambulance by his coworkers.

Then he had it. A way out of everything.

Stoker felt the snick of the stretcher wheels clicking inside as they mated into the floor locks through the skin of the ambulance under one of his sweaty hands. Then Mike took two steps to the rig's front bumper until he was sure that the driver could see him clearly, and then he collapsed to the ground onto his side, faced away from the truck, not moving. His helmet clattered away from him with a satisfying clunk and skid across the hot asphalt.

The driver startled, turning to the back. "Hey! Paramedic! Fireman down!"

"What?" came Johnny's voice in the back. "I'll be right out!"

Mike heard the driver get out of the ambulance and felt him crouch down quickly near his head to roll him over for a listening check at his nose and mouth. Stoker reached up fast and grabbed him by the shoulders, making him cry out. He muffled the man's face with his arm. "I'm ok. This was a ruse to get you out of the cab. Mac, get your partner to come out with Johnny! That man has a gun!" Then he laid down once more on the pavement, as limp as he could get himself, around his frantic state.

Mac lifted only one horrified glance back at the Mayfair as he started shouting. "Get over here, the both of ya! He's quit breathing on me!"  
yelled the burly attendant, playing along desperately. He set a pair of shaking hands on Mike's face, tilted it up, and pretended to begin a ventilation by bending over.

The shout and pose worked. Stan and Gage flew out of the rig with the defibrillator and a demand valve resuscitator, along with the biophone.

"Mike?" Johnny startled when he saw who was on the ground.

Even as Stan and the paramedic got onto their knees over Stoker, Mac fled instantly for the back of the Mayfair. Seconds later, the older attendant quietly shut both of its rear doors with a reaching arm without raising his head to any window's level, locking them firmly closed. Then Mac crouch-ran in a zig zagging dodge for 51's moving fire engine, just pulling away from them in a maneuver meant to reopen traffic into the supermarket. He leaped onto the side runner board to try and flag her oblivious crew down. But the gang didn't hear him at all as the Ward started a lazy repositioning circle towards the far end of the parking lot.

Mac was carried unknowingly away, unable to tell the firemen what was happening just behind them. Helplessly, he watched also, as Roy DeSoto turn the squad onto the boulevard, on the start of his way to Rampart.

Stoker shot up off the ground when he finally felt two new pairs of hands on him.  
His paralysis was gone, now fueled by fear for his companions. "The junkie's got a loaded gun in his pocket! Get into cover..now!" he told them and he instantly flipped over and started crawling on his hands and knees, making a hasty beeline for the closest row of parked cars in the lot surrounding them.

Gage and Stan hesitated for only a few seconds. "What the h--?!" Johnny blurted throwing himself down onto his stomach to follow after Stoker. "Stan, grab the biophone with ya. I left my g*dd*mned HT in the ambulance.."

Soon, all three of them were under a tiny yellow Volkswagon bug, keeping in line of sight of the silent and shut Mayfair and all the medical gear lying open and abandoned near it. Already, another curious spectator crowd began to build.

"No..no..no.. Why don't they just go away?" Mike hissed.

Johnny was stunned, ignoring everybody but Stoker. "Mike, are you sure? How did you find out that he had one?"

Stoker let his head drop onto his forearms right where all of them lay on their stomachs and he started trembling. "He pulled it out on me and pointed the revolver right at my face, Johnny. I was n-nose to nose with it. I'm more than sure."

Gage eyed him without convincing comprehension.

Mike lost his temper. "J*s*s Chr*st..Why don't you believe me? I was almost killed a minute ago!"

Gage started cursing. "F*ck*ng baggy clothes. I never knew. You know we can't hands on survey a fully conscious patient..." Johnny spat, rapidly setting up the biophone. Then he got a good look at Stoker's complexion.  
"Mike, are you feeling ok?"

"No.. I mean, yes." gasped Stoker. "Uh,...does wanting to throw up count?"

"Just stay down if you wanna black out. Stan'll watch you." Gage told him. Then he started broadcasting. "Rampart, this is Squad 51! We've a Code Yellow. Repeat, Code Yellow. I need a relay to our fire department dispatcher in L.A. immediately! I've a 10-95. Repeat a 10-95 at our scene!"

Quickly, a base station listening Dixie McCall soon made the needed connection about the same time a window pounding Mac got through to Cap Marco, and Chet in Ward's cab to tell them about the same situation.

Rapidly, Marco pulled the engine back into a broadsided angle to give Gage,  
Stoker, and Stan, the attendant, a clear route to safety behind its solid, protecting bulk.

Then the whole gang and both the Mayfair attendants hunkered down against the engine to await the police who soon arrived in three squad cars, ordered in on silent reds, a minute later.

Mike closed his eyes firmly so he wouldn't see the outcome of any standoff as the cops closed in on the Mayfair with all their weapons bristling cautiously into the air. ::Vince. Watch yourself out there. Don't get yourself killed.:: he wished fervently.

He never even felt Johnny slip gripping fingers around his wrist to monitor his post reaction.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: A gun pointed right at you.

Photo: A fireman down on the ground.

Photo: Johnny crouched under cover in turnout.

Photo: Engine 51, Squad 51 and cops from afar.

Photo: Roy and Gage ducking by the squad with gear.

Photo: Johnny and Vince approaching an open Mayfair.

Photo: Stoker looking stunned in a close up.

*  
From: "Monster Moofie" and "Patti Keiper"  
Subject: End and Beginning, The Debriefing Date: Thu May 25, 2006 8:29 pm

Roy had received the radio transmission about a weapon at the supermarket. He returned there and parked in a safe spot and fidgetted with worry while he awaited an outcome.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vince carefully opened the back of the Mayfair as he and another officer positioned themselves behind the doors. Peering around he saw the junkie flopped out, sleeping it off. A loud snore punctuated the silence. Vince carefully entered the ambulance and patted the blankets, locating the .38. Handing the gun off to the other officer, Vince pulled out his cuffs and quickly locked the man's wrist to the side of the gurney, repeating the steps with another pair of cuffs on the other side. He then called out, "John, Roy, all clear! He is cuffed and ready to go. Officer Jackson will ride in with you." Vince climbed out of the ambulance and was replaced by Jackson.

Roy grabbed all the gear, climbed up in himself and checked the patient's vitals. He contacted Rampart, letting them know all was well and that they were on the way.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny still had his fingers wrapped around Mike's wrist, monitoring his pulse. As soon as Vince called out and exited the ambulance, Mike's pulse changed drastically, his face turning a sickly gray.

Johnny felt him start to go and switched from gripping his wrist to placing his hands under his armpits, lowering him to the ground as he fell. "Something tells me you're not faking it this time." Johnny said to the fading engineer. Gage didn't find a pulse easily the second time, he found one only higher up in the crook of Mike's elbow. "Just relax. It's over. Everybody's safe now, thanks to you."

Cap, Marco and Chet quickly surrounded them, demanding to know what in the world was happening. Recovering from shock, Captain Stanley quickly asked Johnny, "What gear do you need?" Cap looked down from the peek mirror he had cleverly angled towards the now un-beseiged ambulance. "How's Mike doing? The other guy's still quiet for now."  
Chet grabbed a blanket out of the squad, opening it quickly and offering it to Johnny. Stoker started shivering again as he tried to nod that he had heard them.

Gage smiled as he opened Mike's collar where he lay on the ground.  
He studied the engineer while Stoker stared out at nothing in particular. "He's a little shocked, but ok, Cap."

"H*ll, I would be to if I'd been in his shoes." Hank replied.

"I was there once before, Cap. Remember Vince's concussion?" Gage asked.

"How could I forget that? You almost got your head blown clean.." Hank broke off, very sensitive about Stoker's possible feelings right then. "Ah, well. Now's not exactly the nicest time to talk about that particular little adventure."

Removing the blue uniform jacket he was wearing, Johnny placed it under Mike's head as he answered, "Let's get his feet elevated. It's just psychogenic shock. He had that gun in his face." Grabbing the blanket from Chet he covered Mike with it.

Chet kneeled down by Mike facing Johnny while Cap and Marco squatted down one on each side.

Only about thirty seconds had passed before Mike's eyes fluttered back open. He moaned. Then he rocketed up, turning away from Johnny. Vomiting, he spewed his recently ingested meal all over an unsuspecting Chet.

Completely shocked, Chet could only sit and gape, mouth open.

Recognizing that Mike was pulling out of it, Johnny lightly quipped, "Well, Mike, looks like to me you caught the Phantom sleeping." Turning serious again, he instructed, "Lie back down here while I check your vitals. I think you're fine but I know Dr. Brackett might want to see you."

Now completely embarrassed, Mike began to protest, only to be silenced by a stern, "Mike!" from his Captain. Mike resumed his prone position and allowed Johnny to verify his recovering status.

Chet, meanwhile, hadn't said a word. He had merely risen, removed his uniform's outer jacket and grabbed a rag to clean himself up, leaving Mike to wonder what the conniving Phantom would do when things calmed down.

"Do you need another ambulance for him, Johnny?" Captain Stanley asked. In spite of his paramedic's assurances, he was still extremely worried about his engineer.

"No, Cap. He can ride in with you. His system just had a small shock. I'm not worried now." Giving Mike a hand up, he stepped back and allowed Cap and Marco to steer the embarrassed engineer to one of the passenger seats in the engine. "Mike, We'll check you out a little better once we all get back to the station. Let me know when that nausea starts to go away, ok?"

Cap was finally convinced. "Get Stoker into the engine as soon as the cops have all of the information they need from us and cover him up with our turnouts if you have to, to counteract his chilling symptoms. Johnny, I promise I'll get Chet to make him start talking about it on the way back to quarters. And I can put in a call for a CISM counselor to help him out if he still feels like it, once we get back there."

"Sounds like a plan." sighed Gage unhappily. He turned back to Mike and kept his hands on his shoulders just to let him know that he was still there and that he was absolutely safe in his arms. "Easy, Stoker. We're all right here with ya."

Then Johnny picked up the HT and jumped in the squad where Roy used to be and drove off to Rampart after Roy's departing ambulance.

---------------------------------------------------------

Detective Lt. Ron Crockett waited patiently for Gage and DeSoto to finish a routine vital signs check on their station's engineer. Finally,  
he couldn't hold his questions in any longer. "Now, let me get this straight.  
None of you had a clue about this character having a weapon on him,  
at all?"

Johnny got angry on Mike's behalf. "No, detective. We didn't have a clue. I'm telling you, this guy was totally happy we were there to help him out of his crazy predicament. Isn't that right, Mike?" he asked, pulling the blood pressure cuff off of Stoker's arm. "Roy, he's finally back to normal. 132/98."

"Same here. Pulse's 56." said Roy, then he spoke again. "Go eat something once we're done here, ok?" he told Mike no nonsense. "I'm sure Marco'll be pleased as punch if you stuff yourself to the gills on his mother's cooking. He's been wanting to do that to you ever since we got back here."

"I will." grinned Stoker shyly. "But I'm still mad at myself for not seeing the gun on that guy. I was right next to him."

Cap and the gang spoke up protectively in a rush once more about how they all had been duped when Vince Howard, the policeman, spoke loudly over them from where he was butt perched on Cap's office desk. "Now, boys. Don't go blaming yourselves in the slightest for that kind of oversight. Police officers miss weapons that are located in a suspect's front pants pockets all the time. And sometimes, even after very thorough body searches have already been conducted. It didn't help that this junkie was looking like Fat Albert in clothes sizes five times too big for his body frame." said the easy going police officer.

Detective Crockett rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What I'd like to know is why the paramedics didn't do a head to toe exam on the man once he was placed on the gurney." he wondered to Vince.

Cap sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We don't have the authority to do that typically, lieutenant. Not when someone's completely conscious and talking to us without signs of obvious injury..."

Roy spoke up. "We both agree with our captain there." DeSoto said quickly, letting Crockett know about his and Johnny's viewpoint. "A routine medical call usually doesn't need us to go into that kind of detail since the patient can usually tell us what's going on verbally."

"And even if that kind of exam's needed, we still have to ask permission to do so every step of the way, like,..' Do you want some oxygen? Can I take your blood pressure?'" explained Johnny.

Police Detective Ron Crockett wasn't content.  
"You mean you fellas decided on your own not to wait for the police for backup even though this guy was clearly altered mentally?" asked Detective Crockett sharply. "That was stupid. Doesn't your fire department policies state that at any time a patient displays incompetent faculties, a police officer should be on the scene to oversee things to assure safety measures are being taken in case the patient needs to be physically restrained?"

All the firemen in the fire station office shifted uncomfortably and then they got angry. Fast.

They all started talking at once.

"Now wait just a gosh darned minute here!.." said Gage. "That would mean we'd have to call the cops for even the simplest fainting case."

"That's a little uncalled for.." said Roy. "Most of our patients are always half out. And those are just the non-trauma related ones."

Chet bristled. "We saved ourselves this morning just fine."

"Cap, did I do something wrong?" asked Stoker.

"No way in h*ll, Mike. You did everything absolutely by the book. If the fault's anyone's, all of us are guilty for missing the danger. Including the witnesses who called us out to help him in the first place." Hank growled.

Vince held up appeasing hands in defense of himself and his stern faced African American supervisor. "Boys, boys. We're not playing the bad guys with this little meeting here all right? That was never our intent.  
We're just trying to get a clearer understanding about what happened today so that maybe,.. just maybe, all of us can keep this from ever happening again."

Silence reigned in the office, except for Boot's anxious whining.

Mike Stoker picked him up and began petting him to quiet both his stress reactions and the dog's. "Shhh, easy boy. We're just talking. I think.." he glared at the detective.

Crockett threw up his hands in exasperation with a huge frustrated sigh and placed both hands on his hips firmly. "Ok,..looks like we're gonna get nowhere with this informal inquiry. Howard, we're not helping here. Let's go hit the streets after filing their report and do something that'll make a real difference to someone else, huh?" he said sarcastically.

Then Ron left the office in a huff, his brusk manner very apparent.

Vince Howard rubbed his hands together. "Sorry for that. We both spent a real unpleasant last couple of hours on this case. It doesn't make it any easier on any of us that my police coworker had to handcuff your patient's legs, too, after he woke up and freaked out for seeing us standing over him. His attending doctor just about chewed us up and spit us out for doing it."

Stoker looked away, putting a hand to his mouth, stifling powerful emotions.  
"He became dangerous?"

"Yeah. And it didn't take much to provoke him." replied Howard.

Cap set a gentle hand on Mike's arm in support. "Are we done? All my men and I want to do is forget this whole incident for a while so we can get on with the rest of our workshift and start to begin to feel better about this whole horrid mess just as soon as we possibly can."

Vince rose. "You're absolutely right. Nothing else can be done here today. Any protocol changes in your department and mine regarding this kind of rescue call gone bad will have to be hashed out by higher paid administrators and other bureaucrats. I'm sorry I let Detective Crockett inflict himself on you the way he did. I had no choice in the matter. See you fellas, later." he said moving to the door. Then he turned back. "Mr. Stoker, if I can show you a few moves on how to disarm someone with a gun for later, give me a call." he said, handing Mike Stoker an L.A.P.D. business card. "It seems that requests for that kind of training's reaching me more and more from all you paramedics and firemen lately. It kinda makes me mad that no one ever asks me to do this until something really bad happens first."

"I'll definitely look you up for that lesson after we're back from our vacation." replied Mike with sincerity.

Vince actually smiled, as glad to change the subject as the fire gang was.  
"Oh? Where are you fellas off to?"

"Santa Catalina.. We're all leaving Saturday for ten days camping and doing the usual touristy things people from the mainland normally do out there." chuckled Cap.

"Well, hug a Beechey's ground squirrel for me when you see one. They're real friendly on the island." waved Vince. "I had two of them who liked getting into my backpack all the time looking for food when I was on a hiking trip three years ago."

"I promise you we'll watch out for them." said Chet, waving back.  
"No one's gonna steal a meal from me and get away with it."

"No, you'll only wear one on occasion." quipped Gage, sotto voce.  
No one heard him at all then, and he smiled at his own humor.

Vince nodded, putting on his helmet and left the station.

Hank looked up when the side doorbell rang. "That'll be Gloria Schaefer from Headquarters, the CISM. Kelly, would you go let her in? We've all got lots to get out and talk with her about, isn't that right, Mike?"

Stoker sighed. "Let's get this thing over with." he said, rising. He had never been a fan of crisis debriefings. It meant admitting weaknesses. ::And no firefighter will ever show weakness to anyone. Not if he can help it.:: thought the engineer.

Gage and Roy patted him on the back in encouragement as they all left for the coffee pot in the kitchen and the formal introductions soon to come between them and the crisis counselor.

---------------------------------------------------------

A few days later found the `A' shift finally on Catalina Island.

"I can't believe the time flew so fast!" Marco remarked. "I really thought we were never going to get here!"

Several of the men laughed and nodded their agreement.

Roy spoke up, "It was really getting tough around the station. I guess we just really needed a break from it all."

Johnny backed out of the tent he had just finished setting up and chimed in, "I'm sure glad we're here but I'm even happier the hang gliders worked out. I'm really looking forward to learning how to soar through the sky."

The Phantom had remained quiet until this point, deep in plotting revenge on Mike. He couldn't resist taking a jab at his favorite pigeon and taunted, "You know,.. it's just as well we're all here, Johnny. With your luck we'll end up having to rescue you and take you to Rampart while we're supposed to be on vacation. Maybe with all of us, you'll manage to stay out of trouble."

Johnny gave Chet a glare, then uncharacteristically dropped the subject, instead grabbing his canteen, camera and backpack. Inspecting his backpack to be sure he had snacks, first aid supplies and a spare pair of socks, "I'm going to head up the west trail. I want to get some pictures of the lake from the viewpoint." Whistling, he headed up the trail, Mike and Marco falling in behind him, leaving Chet open mouthed in shock.

Captain Stanley looked at the departing trio then he turned to Chet and said with a saucy grin, "Well, Chester B, you've been put in your place! You're going to have to..."

---------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Cap with helmeted gang in a group.

Photo: Gage in turnout by the squad crouching.  
Photo: Detective Crockett side view.

Photo:Johnny takes Stoker's BP.  
Photo: Cap talking intently in his office.

Photo: Officer Vince Howard in a closeup. No helmet. Photo: Gang in a meeting. Photo: Roy hugging Boot.

*  
From : Roxy Dee Sent : Friday, May 26, 2006 2:50 PM Subject : Catalina Charms~~

"...bite the bullet this trip and content yourself with being just Plain Jane for while. They're onto ya." Hank winked.

Chet froze, where he was fussing with assembling his orange and white hang glider. "Oh, so you think that, huh.." he murmured blandly. "Well let me share something with ya, Cap.  
There isn't a prankster born who can outfox me for long. Yes,  
Stoker christening my turnout jacket got past my guard and defenses. That was only because his illness was real, Cap. A touch of the truth always catches people by surprise and yes, I fell for it. It wasn't like I hadn't been warned ahead of time that he was going to sick up real soon. Stoker was cement slurry gray, sweaty, and to go along with those, were full blown shivers. It was my own fault that I chose to ignore those obvious nausea signs in favor of emotionally worrying about a pal of mine instead." he shrugged mildly.

Hank's mouth fell wide open. "Kelly, do my ears deceive me? Are you admitting to having made an actual mistake? G*d, I wish the others were here to witness this." he crowed delightfully.

"I'm here.." said Roy, poking his head out of Johnny's tent. "And I heard every word he just said. Booga booga."  
he said monotone, splaying lame spooky fingers at Chet in mock jest.

"Oh, Roy. You don't count. You never gossip about someone's failings. You're too d*mned honest for your own good." Chet told him.

"Ixnay on the wearsay ordsway." DeSoto hissed through his teeth, pointing at a mound pressing against the rainfly of his tent as a flaxen haired head emerged into the daylight.

"I heard that.." said Chris DeSoto, his voice newly deepened into a light baritone with growing puberty. "Yeah, Chet, nix the swear words. I still don't like em, even though my ears aren't nearly so young any more these days." he said, crawling out of his father and Johnny's four man tent.

Chet scoffed, mouthing an apology to Roy silently before saying his next retort. "Ah, from the mouth of babes. Er, excuse me, let me formulate a correction here.. At least from one with some very first time sprouting peach fuzz.." Kelly said affectionately, rubbing a few fingers under Chris's barely hair bristling chin.

"Aw, Chet. Cut that out. I'm thirteen. Dad says I'm finally a teenybopper.  
And that's somewhere where I'm not a child anymore but not quite an adult." said the blond haired Chris DeSoto.

"Then what are you...?" asked Chet in a spooky voice.

"Hungry. Who got the short end of the toothpick this morning and earned first cooking of the chow? I'm still growing like a weed here,.." Christ said, dragging out a first aid pack to inventory its contents carefully. "And I'm feeling every growling roll of my poor bile and acid filling stomach."

"Eeooow.." teased Chet, curling up into a look of disgust.  
"Do sons of paramedics always become so gifted with the more medically graphic turns of phrase. Yuck. You're spoiling my appetite."

"Oh, so I guess that means you're 'Cook' today, eh, Mr. Stanley?"  
smiled the teenager, correctly guessing the one so stuck.

"Please, Chris. Call me Hank or Cap. Everybody else does."  
said Stanley.

"All right. Guess I'm just used to being polite all the time.  
Especially out in public." replied the junior DeSoto.

"I can fix that trait in a jiffy. Just start hanging out with me, kid."  
said Chet.

Roy smacked Kelly's arm meaningfully. "Not in a million years.  
He's going flying with his grandfather this morning, right after stuffing some food into that fuzz growing face of his."

"Dad...." Chris frowned with a blush. "I did try to shave it all off like you showed me."

"You're doing better. I'm not seeing any nicks I gotta treat on you this time." Roy teased.

"Grandpa let me use his straight razor. It works a lot better than those cheap plastic Schick things you like to use.." said Chris.

Roy cleared his throat self consciously, "Yeah, well, I'm not a fan of antiques like your grandfather is, son. I happen to like a lot of speed and convenience for my dollar."

"Grandpa Ian says 'Waste not, want not.' " chimed the half teen,  
crossing his eyes at DeSoto.

Roy made a face right back at his first born. "My way doesn't need a whetting strip of cloth..."

"Yeah?" answered the teen in challenge. "Well, your way needs a sink. Mine doesn't. A straight razor's perfect for camping."

"You got a point there. Guess I lose." sighed Roy.

Stanley choked down a snort of laughter. "Ian DeSoto? Where's he off to? I didn't see him at all this morning after I got up."

"Oh, my dad? He usually gets up before the sun to putz with his airplane. I think he took a shuttle to the landing strip at first light." replied Roy with a shrug.

"Oh, then I'm late!" startled Chris, shooting to his sandled feet.

Roy grabbed his son by the arm. "Not so fast.. Is everything accounted for in the emergency jump bag?"

Chris was quick with his reply. "Everything but the oxygen key.  
I think Uncle Johnny left that clipped on his backpack by mistake. I saw it hanging off a zipper tab last night."

"I'll get out a spare." planned Roy. He let go of Chris's soccer shirt sleeve. "Ok, you can go. Mind your grandpa."

"Yes, dad."  
Chris snatched up his handheld radio from the picnic table along with a canteen and rain gear and started up the long dirt rutted trail leading up to the Airport in the Sky five miles up the mountainside.

Cap called out after him. "Hey, what about breakfast time?"

The freckled boy who looked a lot like his firefighting father, grinned.  
"Flying is flavoring, Mr. Stan-- uh, Captain. How can you feel hungry looking at such a stunning sunrise as that, sir?" he asked, pointing at the brilliant dawn spreading out over the ocean waters stretching far below their pinetree strewn ranchland campsite. "There's not a single solitary speck of smog in the air. And I wanna absorb every second of it from deep inside a Cessna's cockpit at a thousand feet. Gotta go!" and with that, Chris was gone in a stirred up cloud of dust left behind by his running feet.

Cap chuckled at the same time as a coffee sipping Roy who tended the black and white flecked western enamelized tin pot still simmering on the fire grill. "Now where is that crazy partner of yours dragging Lopez and Stoker off to?" asked Cap.

"Off to the 'lake.' Well, actually, it's more like a desert rock rain collection pool in a cave system just over the hill. It's deep enough for swimming.  
And at the top of the gorge along the flat sand dunes--" Roy broke off as Stanley got the picture and the idea.

"...it's great for learning how to hang glide using the land/sea breezes sloping down to the beach. Outta sight." Hank said contently. "Say,  
can you pour me a cup of that Folder's? Smells good."

Kelly looked up from a finally completed glider assembly. "Let them swim first. I don't care. My butt's gonna be the first one in the air.. Last one to the cliff tops is a rotten fireboot!" he shouted, hefting up his finished hang glider in a triumphant display. He hooted all the way up Johnny's trail catching up to the others who were heading for the slit in the cliffside which led to the swimming hole.

"Bring your radio.." Hank Stanley shouted, throwing a bit of captain's gruff which turned his reminder into a sharp edged order.

"It's in my windbreaker, Cap. I'm not that dumb.." Chet shouted back.  
"See ya on the next airport shuttle back up here. My landing strip's that beach you're gaping at, directly below us. My guide promises I'll make it easily."

"Let's hope so." Hank countered.

"I KNOW so.." Kelly shot right back. "See ya.."

Photo: Catalina airport cliff view.

Photo: Catalina avalon airport.

Photo: Catalina airport building.

Photo: Chris DeSoto, a teenaged blonde boy, close.

Photo: Catalina open airplane.

Photo: Catalina sand sunrise.

Photo: Catalina tentgrounds.

Photo: Chet hang gliding dunes.

Photo: Catalina pool gorge.

Photo: Cap and Chet in helmets by sunny cliffhouses.

*  
From: "Cory Anda" Date: Mon May 29, 2006 6:37pm Subject: Payback's a b*t*h

"Ah, this is the life, fresh air, pine cones.. It's gonna be great."  
sighed Lopez at the edge of the swimming hole.

Gage grinned, chewing on a blade of grass taken from a niche in the rock..." What is it? It's a.. It's a...."

Stoker piped up, sleepily from where he napped in the sun.  
"It's a thing of beauty."

"A thing of beauty?" grunted Chet as he made a sudden appearance from the crack hole in the rock which served as the tourist's entry into the semi-secret red stone grotto framed around the deep green rain and spring fed pool.

"Yeah, a thing of beauty.." insisted Marco in a glare, part reminder for Chet to stop the scuffling noise he was making. He eyed the harness around Chet's torso. "So,.. you're going to go do it after all."

"And why not?" Kelly straightened up selfconsciously on the shelf he had deposited his trail sweaty rear on. "Johnny's hang gliding idea was the best one he's ever come up for a vacation plan since Santa Rosa County.." he beamed happily, rubbing some island dust off of his nose. "That is,..if I ever get to cool off first. I didn't know June out here gets so darned hot. And windy. I had to leave my glider tied to a tree to keep it from blowing out to sea on me."

"It is a desert climate, Chet. Don't you know your California island meteorology?" Lopez retorted.

"Enough to know that today's a good day for flying." Kelly said.

"Oh?" Gage sniggered. "Who else bought your fly like an Catalina osprey invitation besides yourself?"

"Chris and Ian DeSoto. Only they're doing it by cessna." he said. "Both should be at the airport right about now, making preparations for takeoff."

"Yeah, well, I'm doing another kind of takeoff." said Marco, peeling out of his Los Angeles Raiders jersey and jeans shorts down to his swim trunks. "Who's up for some good wholesome cliff jumping?  
The water's deep enough. You can see all the way down to the bottom.."

Stoker, Gage, Lopez and Kelly curled their toes on the rock ledge they perched upon, peering down distastefully. "You first.." said Gage. "That way, if you *  
don't make it, the rest of us can climb down and rescue you long before you start drowning."

"Ok." said Marco in challenge. "This spot's not so high. What?.. It's about eighteen feet up?"

"More like twenty.." grinned Stoker in a gray tank top and navy baseball cap, plying his hose distance measuring skills easily.

"You can't leap off from way up here.." said Chet, growing disconcerted.  
"This cliff's not a nice safe diving board. You'll shred all the skin off your legs and bare feet for sure."

"Watch me.." Lopez shot at him.

"Oh, believe me, I will.." Kelly fired back. "And I'll be anticipating just how long Cap'll shred you verbally too, if you go and hurt yourself for doing such a crazy stunt."

"Marco's all right, Chet. The water depth's just aren't any rocks jutting up from the bottom." Mike offered.

Kelly fell silent, casting a still half worried look down at the sun glistening pool below them.

Then Mike inserted a jokester's expert priming with one stylishly cool phrase. "Pollo Pequeno.." said Stoker smoothly. "Bet you can't do the same dive.." he dangled. His words hung in the moist steamy air and echoed off the rocks.

Gage began to chuckle.

That did it. Chet's mouth set in a firm line. "Ok, Stoker. You're on. Ready to rumble? Let's do this then.." and he mock spit into his hand pointedly, "..mano a mano. Marco, you be our height tester, but don't jump off. Just let us know where the safe places are so we can complete this little contest without killing ourselves horribly in the process or getting unfairly reassured by having someone else jump down before us."

"You're on.." Marco crowed with excitement. "Stoker versus Kelly. On the high dive.. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Say you two dive up to.... " he cast his gaze around the red sun glowing grotto.."that little gnarled bush up there as the top most challenge. Ready? Line up your toes on the mark, boys." he said, scuffing a sneaker in the sand on the ledge hanging over the water. "May the best man...win.."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stoker neatly swan dived from the second to the last shoe Marco had perched on a fold in the ribboned cliff face. His body sliced into the water like a knife and hardly made any splash on the way in.

The gang leaned over semi fearfully from the newest height to make sure he surfaced once more.

Mike's head broke the surface. "Ok, Chet.. Your turn. Are ya gonna do the ninety foot leap off or not? I'm tired of waiting for ya."

Kelly licked dry lips from where his lily white toes gripped the narrow ledge he was leaning for dear life on.

Stoker taunted in good humor once again. "Are ya gonna let me pull one over on ya once again like that day I stared down a gun? I'm still laughing about that, Chet. No longer blushing.." he said, squirting mirthful water out of his mouth playfully as he treaded water.

"I'll do it. I'll do it. " said Chet. "Just to shut your yap. Don't rush me!"  
he shouted punily down from his great height.

The rest of the gang began to catcall and jeer with the rest of the tourists in the grotto who were watching with shivering can't-watch captivation.

Gage shouted up one more time. "I can always swim out there and catch ya!" he gestured at Chet.

"I'm not a cheater..." sputtered Kelly from up where he was. Marco and Gage looked like ants to him from his perspective. "All right, I'm going.  
If only to shut you up once and for all.." Then he lost his balance before he could leap away from the ragged rock face as his foot slipped.

Johnny shouted. "Look out, Chet! Turn yourself! Turn yourself.. you're in the wrong position to hit the wat---!"

SPLASH !!!! !!!! Kelly went, landing fully on his stomach, his legs and arms splayed stiffly. Then his head and body disappeared beneath the alkaline surface and his leap's violent ripples started to die away.

"Oooo.." Lopez grimaced, grabbing his own midsection in empathetic sympathy. "What a belly flop..." he groaned.

"Stoker, do you see him?" Johnny shouted down. "Is he ok after that one?  
It's been taking longer and longer for you guys to swim back up to the top."

Mike circled in a three sixty right where he stationed in the pool, eyeing for movement from below. "Still seeing a bubble column. I think so."

Seconds dragged out into a full minute.

The gang became increasingly anxious until finally, even Mike began shouting. "Chet? Where are you?!"

Johnny and Marco both leaped into the water after Mike to begin a search.

Thirty horrifying seconds went by while all of them started to hyperventilate for frantic search dives.

Then... a curly mop broke the surface. "...OwwWWWww. That one smarted like h*ll!"

Gage frontstroked over to Chet quickly and took him by the shoulders and gripped an arm across his chest in a hold. "Chet, are you ok?! You scared the sh*t out of us. Mike's still down there diving after ya.."

"I'm fine." Kelly said drolly with a shrug. "Whatever gave you the idea that I wasn't?"

"Your delay underwater.." said Marco.

"Geesh, guys. What do you think I was? Born yesterday? My sister and I used to intentionally belly flop when we were kids to see how much water we could displace out of the swimming pool. We used to laugh at the lifeguards while they yelled at us for doing such a dangerous stunt. I know how to fall that way without ripping my guts open.."

"Well, he doesn't know that.." Johnny gasped, letting go of Kelly, pointing down to Stoker's bottom sweeping underwater form.

"Perfect.. Guys, I'm gonna hide. Keep on pretending to look. Let's scare him real good. Remember, I got some payback time coming for him puking on me last week."

Gage broke into a grin. "Guess that's true. Ok.. go back down there. Pop up again after a longish minute or so. He should be good and riled up by then enough to satisfy honor."

"Cool beans.. If Mike doesn't laugh after this, then I know he's still messed up from that gun call. It'll be our daily psych check on him. Thanks, guys,  
in advance." And with that, Chet took a huge breath of air and returned to the depths beneath the ledge to wait it out.

When the joke was sprung in the end, Johnny and Marco both sighed in relief when the shy trademark smile spread over Stoker's face when he realized that he'd been had most thoroughly.

"You got me, Chet. Ha HA!" he said, shaking water out of his eyes while catching his breath back. He let the others haul him out of the water to recover. "Man, guess we're even now on the joking oneupmanship.  
I didn't know you had it in you.." he crowed. "I never thought you'd pull your revenge out on me while we were still on vacation.."

"Yeah, well live and learn.." Kelly said, holding out a hand of apology for scaring him.

Stoker took it warmly while he shivered in the beach towel Marco piled on top of his head. "You know what this means though."

"No, what?" said Kelly.

"It means I get to pull another joke on you now, too, during vacation. Watch your back, then, Chet. Because I just might be right behind you when you least expect it."

The smile wiped clean off of Chet's face.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Chet sitting by a desert rain pool.

Photo: Cliff divers diving.

Photo: Chet doing a belly flop.

Photo: Chet holding up a peace pipe in a joke.  
****************************************************************************** From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Fri Jun 2, 2006 4:15 pm Subject: Here's To Chips and Wings..

"Aw, don't take it so hard, Chet." said Marco, patting the curly haired fireman on the back. "It's not like it's the end of the world, you know."

"No, but it's the end of me being able to completely relax myself.  
I won't be able to let my guard down for even a second now." sighed Chet, staring at Mike Stoker's sunburned back as the engineer dried himself off with a beach towel.

"Poor baby. Here, have a coke." said Johnny. "The sugar in it'll calm your nerves down." Gage nudged an icy glass bottle against Kelly's shoulder in emphasis.

Kelly jumped at the bone aching chill branding his reddened skin and he snatched the bottle out of Johnny's hands in irritation. "So who won? Me or him?" Chet grumped.

Lopez shared with eagerness.  
"It was a draw. You both leaped off at the ninety foot mark."

Chet wilted in fatigue, letting water droplets drip down off his hair and onto the cold stone beneath him. "Aw, man.... really? I put everything I had into beating his smug little a---"

"Now, none of that. Why don't you go warm yourself in the sun at the top? It'll loosen you up a tad. I'll walk up your lunch as soon as Mike and I get it ready. And I promise I won't let him get any opportunity to lace it with jalapenos from Marco's provisions pack." Johnny suggested.

"Thanks, I'm counting on you, Gage. Don't mess up here or I promise you, you'll never hear the end of it." Chet warned quietly as he painfully buckled his sandals and put on a hawaiian shirt.

"Geesh, what a grump.." Johnny frowned as he and Lopez watched Kelly stiffly make his way up the narrow path leading out of the swimming grotto. Then Johnny started laughing. "Maybe I should slip some aspirin into his potato salad for all those sore muscles of his." he chuckled to the other two.

Mike piped up as he pulled a T-shirt on over his goose pimpling skin.  
"Let him suffer until sundown. Then tend to him. He scared the sh*t out of me by staying underwater like that for so long."

"All right. Makes sense to me. He's only gonna get even MORE sore after getting in that hang gliding session today." Johnny nodded.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet Kelly was almost dozing. Almost...

One eye was sealed shut and the other was scanning the pure blue skies morphing clouds overhead.

He could hear Sonoran bumblebees and smell California lilacs in full bloom on the breeze. The spicy scents of toyon and oak intoxicated him where he snugged face down on a hot boulder to ease his still smarting stomach. He knew that he'd have one h*ll of a bruise there by nightfall.

He lazily surveyed the canyon and near distant Mount Orizaba, until his hand brushed something coarse and very sun warmed by his feet. He picked it up and studied it. ::I wonder what this rock is? Lava? It's so light...::

A scuffling on the trail behind him made Chet scramble to his feet and get under a mesquite bush. He held his new found soft rock cocked in ambush while he waited for Mike Stoker to appear....

A firm, strong nose on his shoulder made him fly forward in complete surprise and Kelly fell onto his back, facing the sun.

'Snort!' huffed a truly massive animal. Kelly scattered like a crab away from the shaggy beast, still hefting his tan rock pathetically until his head impacted against a leather boot. Chet looked up, rubbing his scalp with a free hand.

It was Johnny. And he began to laugh. "What's the matter, Chet? Haven't you ever seen a buffalo face to face before?"

Chet shot to his feet. "That's a... a... buffalo? H-Here? But ..but ..but, this is an island, Gage. Who'd ever release and leave those monsters to fend for themselves way out here?"

"The Conservancy, Chet. Catalina's eighty eight percent wildlife land now.  
Don't worry. I don't think he's gonna charge. He's not jaw chomping nearly enough." reassured Johnny, who seemed expert on that kind of thing.

To Chet, Johnny seemed even more Native American right then to him than he'd ever had before in recent recollection. ::Maybe him being near that buffalo, wearing those chaps, helps with the effect.:: Kelly guessed.

Johnny thought Chet was still petrified with fear so he pointed to the ground.  
"Didn't you see all of their footprints around here? This is perfect bison country."

Kelly didn't answer him. He still stood frozen, eye to eye with the mildly curious, cud chewing bovine standing only thirty feet away from the two firemen. It was well concealed by natural camouflage in the heavy mesquite scrub. "Nice, big cow.." Chet soothed the placid bison nervously.

'Snort!' it answered, sending up a cloud of desert dust from its coat.

"Easy boy.. I'm not gonna--" Kelly started to say.

Gage interrupted him.

Johnny looked down and eyed up Chet's geological curiosity, noticing it for the first time. He gripped Kelly's wrist and turned it over, studying Chet's odd rock with a growing amusement. "Hmmmm. I didn't know you liked to collect buffalo chips to go along with your western era barbed wire collection, Chet. This one's still fresh."

Chet gagged with a cry and dropped the crusty lump instantly.

He groaned in disgust while he immediately began wiping both of his hands off onto his equally dusty shorts.

Johnny smiled even bigger when Kelly went running back to the swimming grotto to wash the dried buffalo dung off his palms.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chris DeSoto was as excited as he could be. He had found Ian DeSoto just in the nick of time.

His grandfather had completed his walk about his airplane, paid the tie-down and landing fees, and now he was on the radio with the local coastal air control tower situated in Long Beach. "Unicom tower, this is Alpha Tango Charlie 11795, requesting clearance for take-off on runway 22 with two souls on board."  
said Ian with a wink at Chris, belted in the front passenger seat.

##You are clear for take-off, ATC11795. Note your MSL approach is North 33 by 24.30 and West 118 by 24.95. Altimeter ground level is 2602 feet. Nearest traffic is 7 nautical miles due SSE at 1120 feet. Current weather shows a building but weak low pressure 40 miles west into your direction. Wind is 20 knots WSW.##

"Confirmed, Unicom. My transponder is actuated. Thanks for the update."

Chris smiled in wonder as the older man put on his helmet after hanging up the radio receiver mic. "What was that all about? That sounded like LAX. It's seems so remote here on the mountaintop, grandpa. I didn't know anybody was even watching us."

Ian laughed out loud. "We're still too close into the coastline to not be worried about the other ten thousand and six airplanes zooming through the skies over our heads." he explained. "You're forgetting that all the airliners loop out over the ocean on takeoff from Los Angeles.  
And that puts a plane into a trajectory that clips Catalina Island's local airspace once every minute and a half."

"Really? Where?" said Chris, pressing his nose against the windshield of his side of the little white cessna in a careful search.

"Right there..." said Ian, pointing down towards the ocean.

Chris's mouth flopped open when he saw a red tailed Northwest plane angling out over the sea in a turning arch to gain altitude away from the unseen skyscrapers of Long Beach, L.A. and Torrance. "They're below us?"

"Yep. The approach end of Catalina's runway 22 begins at the edge of a 1500' cliff. This gives the airport some characteristics similar to landing on an aircraft carrier that is 1,602' in the air." said Mr. DeSoto.

"Wow. Needle in a haystack! What else is weird about this airport?" asked Roy's oldest.

"Well," said Ian, taking his aircraft into a taxi mode ahead of the other tourist planes, idling with spinning props for their turn to use the runway.  
"This runway's first 2000 feet slopes up and the remainder of it is level.  
Pilots can't see aircraft on opposite ends of the runway due to its gradient. There've been plenty of accidents on this course. On landing, that strange upslope creates the illusion of being higher than you really are, tricking inexperienced pilots into flying its approach too low. They then encounter the steep dropoff at the end of the runway which always creates significant downdrafts and turbulence, often exceeding some of the smaller aircrafts' ability to climb."

"Isn't that dangerous?" frowned Chris, adjusting the radio mic over his mouth around his bulky blue helmet.

"Nah. Unschooled pilots are never allowed to fly to Catalina, Chris. That optical illusion's overcome by using the altimeter, and some focusing on only the first few hundred feet of the runway. And you can back yourself up using VASI during the approach. Most pilots only see half the runway when aligned with it in takeoff position, See us right now?" he asked, pointing out ahead of them. "Pilots on their first time here have induced a takeoff stall as they panicked by pulling up near the mid-point of runway, thinking it was the end."

"Well that's dumb.." said Chris, turning his head.

"What is?" asked Ian, keeping his eye on the jumbo jet's comtrail he could see climbing out over the ocean nearly at their same elevation.

"There are no mid-field or distance remaining signs for the runway."  
said the teenager.

"I know. This airport's private, Chris. Hard to raise funds for aircraft services,  
FBO, fuel, and maintenance if you don't have airfares. They've just the landing fees to rely on." said Ian. "A cute reminder of that is the fact that we find rocks fallen on the runway all the time. Makes me glad sometimes that they have their full stop landing ordinance absolution. Are you ready?  
Get set for a strong downdraft at the approach end of the runway. It's caused by the prevailing winds falling over that monster cliff out there that we can't see yet. Be prepared for a dive, Chris. Catalina's downdrafts are notorious. We might suffer a loss of altitude during our short final."

"I'm set, grandpa. Let's fly.." smiled Chris. "I trust you."

The small airplane soon launched herself into the great big blue sky surrounding them, heading out over the longest width of rugged, high peaked Catalina.

-  
It was about three hours before sundown. Kelly had convinced Marco to fly for the first time with his morning hang glider guide, Kip.

"All right, I think that's it. I think we got everything.." said Chet, growing excited.

Cap frowned as he eyed the row of cloth and aluminum framed gliders lined up on the highest dune of Ripper's Cove. "What's all this stuff?  
I thought we were just going camping.."

Kelly looked at Marco. "Oh, you didn't tell him?"

Marco said. "I thought you did."

Hank narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Tell me what?"

Chet fidgetted under his captain's withering look. "Well, we're going camping. But we also thought we'd do some hang gliding."  
he grinned warmly, adjusting a wire's tension on his glider.

"Oh, you mean 'we' as in you and Lopez. Because I tried this craziness once and I'm not gonna go do it again." Hank said, looking uncomfortable.

"Aww, don't be such a bab-- uh, stick in the mud." said Johnny to Stanley.  
"It's gotta be a lot of fun."

"It's a great sport, it's a..." Kelly said, trailing off as struggled to think of an expression that covered what he was feeling about flying.  
"A thing of beauty.." piped up Gage as he saw others circling gracefully in the clouds above them over Avalon. "Wow.. just look at them!"

"A thing of beauty, huh.." parroted Cap doubtfully, shaking his head in soft sarcasm.

"You're gonna be thanking us come Monday." Chet reassured him.

"Ah,..after a surprise like this, I doubt I'll be talking to either one of you guys." Stanley grumbled.

"Don't worry. I thought ahead.." said Gage. "Just in case you change your mind, Cap, I brought you a glider."

Cap laughed in his face. "John, there is no case, no possible scenario that will EVER... get me to jump off a cliff again without a rappelling rope. Honestly? I thought you guys would try to pull something like this. Come on, come on, let's go. Let's get back to the campsite and get Roy. I wanna grab another drumstick or two off the barbeque. I'm still hungry."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Kelly strapped himself in with Johnny's help.  
"Cap, are you sure you won't change your mind?"

Hank chuckled from his portable camper's chair. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

Chet was eager to talk about how his morning flight lessons had gone. "Ah, there's nothing like the rush of leaping off that cliff, Cap.  
Get this for me, Johnny, will you?" he asked Gage, pointing to his radio helmet's strap.

Hank was thoughtful. "Listen, uh.. If you guys really wanna die so bad, I got assigned a golf cart rental with no brakes."

Kelly, Chet, Johnny and Roy laughed at the invitation.

"Then don't drive it." DeSoto smirked.

"Walking's good.." Hank nodded in instant agreement.

Kelly wove his story about his lesson with the artistry only a new time hang glider could create, eyeing up Cap especially.

Johnny merely listened in with fascinated horror.

"You take off a cliff, drop for a couple of seconds, the wind takes hold.."  
Chet grinned. "It's a.. what is it?" he gestured gimme fingers at the eager listening Marco.

"It's a thing of beauty.." said Kip, the hang glider guide strapping Marco into his harness attached to his own in a tandem knot.

Hank was beginning to see the attraction. "A thing of beauty.." he mumbled finally in a quiet admiration.

Chet picked up his solo glider's wings by the flight bar as Johnny stepped away. "Come on. Get out of the way, Gage." he shouted impatiently, grinning like a banshee. "Kip. Marco.. I'll see you up there!" he shouted, running for the dune's high edge.  
Soon, he was airborne. "Yeah.. wooo! " he said as he drifted away on an uprising thermal. "I'll catch up with you later!!" he shouted back down to the ground at Cap.

Once Lopez got over his fright of being strapped like a mummy to something without an engine to keep it in the air, he actually found that he reveled in the silence of cloth winged flight. And then he stopped bubbling out nervous questions at Kip, tandem tied above him in the same glider.

The two firemen had fun radioing to each other in the air and they challenged one another in trying to match a soaring osprey's rise inside a warm ocean thermal. They could see all of Santa Catalina spread out beneath them. Its crystal blue cove waters amazing visibility and the orange flecks of garibaldi mingled with the brown blades of giant kelp.

Marco grinned. "Hey, Chet..." he said over the headset.

"What, Marco? Can't you see I'm busy banking corkscrews?" shouted Chet excitedly from his own solo hang glider.

Lopez smile right back as he looked at the crazy antics his coworker was swooping out just above him. "I haven t seen a car since we launched off the dunes at Two Harbors."

"That's because they're aren't any. Well, not many, anyway. The locals and tourists mostly use golfcarts because it takes twelve years to get a permit to own and drive an automobile." shouted Kelly over the wind in his transmission.

"Far out.." said Marco. "My kind of town. Just like the Prisoner series on TV.  
You are number 6.." he said in a mock english voice.

Chet shouted gleefully, high on flying. "I am not a number," he crowed "I am a free man."

Lopez was reflective in his helmet as Kip banked their hang glider in for a better view of the two small towns built on the island. "Yeah, up here, we both are. And doesn't Avalon look like the Village from that show?"

"Yeah, spooky. I'm just glad we won't be finding Rover on the beach when we land anytime soon."

"Chet? Kip wants to take me over the west end to see the Isthmus up close. Meet you back in this area in five?" asked Lopez through his helmet frequency.

"Ok, in five and counting." said Chet, setting his watch. "I'll coast inside this thermal while I wait for the two of ya to show me the way home. I really wanna go higher than that osprey, man. It's become a matter of pride."

"Good luck." said Kip from his own radio set. "Osprey won't tolerate anything over their heads. Makes them chatter something fierce.  
I've never been able to do it."

"First time for everything..." said Chet, gaining altitude.

"See you soon.." said Marco as he and Kip leaned onto their hang glider's guide bar and swept out of sight into the setting sun.

Chet smiled when he realized that he finally had some real solitude to savor on his own. ::Ah, aloneness.:: "You got the right idea my fine feathered friend." he said to the osprey gliding around in the thermal above him. "I love it." Kelly stretched in his harness. "Cap, you don't know what you're missing by keeping those cold feet of yours.  
This is pure heaven on earth. Marco's learning that, too."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Hoofprints in clay.

Photo: Johnny looking to the right, in the mountains.

Photo: Buffalo on Catalina Island.

Photo: Catalina airport's cliff view.

Photo: Catalina's infamous runway 22.

Photo: Runway 22's dangerous optical illusion.

Photo: Cessna over Catalina aerial.

Photo: Chet hang gliding.

Photo: Crazy hang glider guide and tandem rider in a dive.

Photo: A flying Catalina osprey.

Photo: Number 6 from the TV series, The Prisoner, with Number 2.

Photo: The "Village" from the series, The Prisoner.

Photo: A beaten Number 6 on the beach with the Rover smothering ball.

Photo: Cap and Chet smiling outside.

*  
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Sun Jun 4, 2006 6:13pm Subject: Moments of Gravity..

Lopez had just begun relaxing when it happened. A sharp upwelling gust jolted their wind sails, lurching both Kip and himself upwards in a nauseating violent jerk. Kip yelled.  
"Hang on. We've hit a dust devil! I'm trying to--"  
His words were ripped away as another slap of curling wind twisted around their glider unexpectedly.

Lopez, ever the alert fireman, started talking immediately on his headset to the others at the campsite. "Hank, Roy! We've hit an off-thermal..." he grunted.

Kip struggled to right the craft, falling into swoops and dives,  
trying to find his way out of the narrow monstrous downdraft.  
He didn't speak, so intent was his concentration.

There was no reply from the others.

Cap, Roy, Johnny and Stoker were too engrossed in eyeing up the sights on the beach below them with binoculars to even pay attention to Marco's frantic radio transmission echoing out of all the other upturned hang glider helmets parked on the picnic table on the other side of the camp fire.

Kelly didn't hear him either, he was currently dipping into a low canyon in a bid to beat the osprey at his own game.

Marco gasped, sharp grains of whirling sand getting into his eyes. "Guys! We're in trouble!" he screamed into the helmet radio's mic over the roar of the invisible whirlwind toying with them.

Kip's chin hit him on the back, making him grunt in pain at another lurch. "Keep ... talking!" grunted the guide, forcing the flight bar up to try and gain more altitude. But the force of the mini tornado was too strong to resist.

Marco gasped as the tips of tall pine trees hurdled up towards them.  
"Guys.. we're going down!! Guys, can you hear me?!" Lopez yelled. "Chet, eye our position! We're going d---"

CRASH!!! A main beam of torrey pine cracked off the left wing of Kip and Marco's hang glider, sending them dropping dozens of feet towards the ground and into a thick stand of a small forest.

Both men fell like rocks, helplessly tethered to the craft as it tumbled down and destroyed itself in violent snaps and shrieks of aluminum.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marco opened his eyes at the soft tink of metal pipes banging into each other above him. He was still in his harness. But he was also hanging thirty feet above the ground from a treetop where the luckless glider had embedded itself.

He gave a start when he twisted around in place to check on Kip.  
The guide was impaled fully on a branch through the chest next to him and his face was blue. He was very dead.

"Madre Dios..." Lopez muttered, crossing himself. Closing his eyes,  
he inwardly assessed his status. ::No broken bones. Not bleeding from anywhere except my left cheek. At least that's something.:: he thought. Then he remembered his radio.  
Reaching painfully up, he groped until he found the mouth mic that had been bent and twisted upwards and tried to use it. "Chet? Do you read me? Chet?" But there was no power left in it. None at all from what he could see. Its speaker light was dark.  
::D*mn it. This'll never work again.:: Marco thought when he found the back of the power unit thoroughly crushed.

He shoved panic aside and worked to free himself from where he hung. Struggling, he undid his helmet strap to be able to breathe a little better. It slipped off his head and Marco watched with some horror as it took a fairly long time to thud to the ground after crashing through the tree boughs swaying underneath him.

Then Lopez's unfamiliarity with the harness releases tying him to Kip's body proved his undoing. The main buckle opened suddenly and dropped him out of the tangled glider wreckage and into a sudden freefall.

Marco yelled in startled surprise. His momentum was slowed only slightly by some thick pine branches as his body fell towards the ground. Pieces of his hang glider and some of its wingsail tumbled down with him, striking Lopez painfully on the head, arms and legs.

Then he hit bottom, landing on his back in a thick bed of pine needles with his right leg folded awkwardly beneath him. The large bone below the knee instantly snapped like a twig.

"AhhhHHH!" grimaced Marco and he folded up double over it and gripped the fresh, closed break with both of his hands in acute agony.  
He threw up immediately, losing his late lunch. Soon, he found he could breathe again as the wind that had gotten knocked out of him, returned.

When the bout was over, he was left suffering retinal stars and gagging at his intense pain.

Then some of Kip's blood began to drip on his face from far above and he fainted into oblivion.

Ten minutes later, Marco was ready. He had bound his leg with aluminum struts and glider cloth in a tight splint and he had made himself a makeshift crutch using a piece of debris from one of his glider's overhead beams. "Ok..." he grunted, psyching up to try and stand. He knew he had to get to a trail or at least get out in the open so Chet would be able spot him or the crashed glider still hanging partially in the treetops.

He eventually got onto his good foot and began the long way back to the duneside campsite that lay a few miles downhill from him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hank was beside himself. "Come on, Chet." he said into one of the helmet's microphones. Gage, Stoker and Roy were sitting next to him on top of the picnic table, also wearing glider gear so that they could hear the conversation. "He crashed didn't he?"

##No,.. no.. he's fine. He's just ah, ...he's just up to some kind of funny business.## sighed Chet from where he was in the air.

"Then why aren't you laughing?" Cap growled. "And why can't we pick him up on his radio?"

Chet got defensive. ##Because these radios have only got a range of ten miles!## he decided. ##If I'm not back in fifteen minutes....##

"Just find him." Gage said, holding onto their portable VHF radio receiver in case they needed outside aid. He had already dialed over to frequency sixteen, the emergency channel.

##I will.. ## gasped Chet with worry as he flew his searching sweeps.  
##I'll find him.##

Quiet waves of wind rustled his glider's wings as Kelly focused his gaze on the ground as he swept over the arid landscape and steep cliffs which descending in deep ripples all around him towards the surrounding ocean. On an instinct, he followed the osprey, still calling forlornly above him. It was headed towards a thick wood a few miles away.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marco was getting tired, fighting his way through thick scrubland using the clumsy crutch. Then another root seemed to snag the end of the aluminum pole under his arm and he fell heavily to the ground yet again.

Lopez took the wave of pain from the jarring tightly, waiting it out.  
Then he opened his eyes to see where the crutch had tumbled to.

He was stunned when he heard the buzz of a snake begin behind him from under a bush. It was very nearby. ::Rattler!:: Marco quailed,  
freezing in place so he could locate where the sound was coming from.  
He found it camouflaged in a snarl of branches and roots. It was a fat rattlesnake only a yard away. The snake was very angry. Marco's good foot was lying directly on a rabbit it had just killed.

Marco breath quavered as he tried to will the snake to stillness where it lay inside the tangled knot of its body. He became acutely aware of the quiet-full-of-sound; quail and other birds, waves, wind, insects and the bite of poison oak beginning to form a rash over all the exposed areas of his skin. A trickle of sweat stung his eyes but he didn't dare wipe it away. Slowly, his eyes located the metal bar and he reached for it in slow motion until he gripped its sun warmed weight. Scuffling softly in the clay, he moved it back under his arm until he could roll his body inch by inch away from the snake.

But then, an untied shoe laced twitched an ear on the dead hare. The snake struck.. driving both fangs deep into the calf of Marco's good leg.

Jerking in panic, Marco threw himself over backwards in fright and in doing so, fell over a dropoff which sent him hurtling down into an uncontrolled tumble down a cliff. His broken leg's splint slammed painfully into rocks and bushes as he rolled, making Marco scream as he tried to arrest his violent fall helplessly.

Then he hit bottom in a deep arroyo and landed face down onto some moist dirt by a small bubbling creekbed.

Violated, bumped and bruised, Marco took one big stunned breath as he tried to rise back onto his hands and knees, but then overwhelming shock took him deep into blackness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Stanley spoke again by helmet radio. "Any signs, Chet?"

##Not yet.## Kelly answered, turning his flight bar into another turn to the left so that he'd arch into the next canyon. Then he spotted a sudden white and orange flash in between some pine trees. He gasped. "##Cap, I got a visual. Looks like they're down.##

Gage broke in using his own helmet mic. "Are they ok?"

Chet replied. ##I don't know. I don't see em. There's some broken branches.  
Looks like they hit hard.##

Hank sighed. "Let assume those boys have gone and broke something. I'm gonna take the golf cart down the mountain to get a chopper."

"Cap, you can't. It'll be dark soon. Too dark to navigate the drive clearly without good brakes." Roy said to him.

"What choice do we have? It'll be night soon." Cap spat.

"Give Chet a chance to find them. They may be ok and walking out of there as we speak." Roy suggested.

"Twenty minutes.." Hank agreed.

Johnny offered another option. "Guys, I can raise help right here.." he said, holding up Roy's portable hand held that he had dug out of a backpack.

"Do it." ordered Stanley. "Chet, Johnny's radioing on VHF 16 for assistance.  
Hang tight and keep circling over that spot."

Johnny began his hail for help while Cap and Chet continued their conversation while Roy and Stoker listened on.

Kelly spoke up again. ##Gage's out of range down there, Cap. I just flipped over and I can't hear him at all. He's transmitting nothing but static.##

"Then I'll walk to a higher elevation." Gage said.

"You can't get any higher than this, we must be getting blocked by Mt. Black Jack's leeward side. It's higher than we are." DeSoto said.

Hank eyed all three of his men. "Then what's left for us to do, huh?  
Can you tell me that?"

Roy, Stoker and Johnny looked at him but couldn't offer anything.

Hank walked to the dune's edge and hailed Chet once more.  
"Kelly, what's going on? Talk to me."

Chet was straining his eyes to the utmost to see past the growing shadows falling on the land below him. Then, he saw a small figure lying on the ground with a bent leg. ##Cap, I see something. I'm taking ...*static crackle* ..a closer look. *crackle spatter*##

"Chet, you're starting to break up, you're almost out of range."  
said Stoker into a mic.

##I found Marco. He's at the bottom of a rocky quarry.## Chet shouted,  
growing scared. Lopez was lying absolutely still, partially tangled in a bush with a leg splint half undone. ##Cap, I'm about ten to twelve miles east--- ## The frequency fizzled into immutability into all their ears.

Hank shouted. "Chet!"

##.....*static*...I'm going in for a landing...##

The radio comm whistled and then cut out completely.

Hank pulled off the glider helmet and threw it onto the ground in disgust.

Gage shot to his feet. "Time's up, Cap. I've got to leave."

"How?" Roy asked him incredulously. "We can hardly see the terrain around us."

Cap said, "And you're not taking that golf cart. Not until we fix those brakes."

Johnny rubbed his face. "I'm not talking about taking the cart.  
I'm talking about using one of those.." Gage said, pointing at the waiting hang glider that Chet had set out for Cap to try.

"You must be outta your mind." Cap told him. "You've never flown one of those things before. You'll end up like those two did and wreck yourself on a hillside somewhere."

"No I won't, Cap. Haven't you noticed? It's nearly dark outside.  
The wind's died down an awful lot from what it used to be. I can just glide into Avalon and land on the beach. How can I miss it? The whole village's lit up like a Christmas tree. I can't possibly hurt myself.." said Gage, pointing towards the tied down hang glider's large silhouette looming nearly over them.

The three of them just stared back without saying anything.

"All right. Ok. All right. I admit there are no guarantees here.  
But I can't think of anyone else but me who'll actually dare to fly out of here. Can you? Besides, I can't be scared of something I can't even see. It'll be too dark for me to know how high up I am." Johnny insisted. "Ok, Stoker, are you gonna get up off your stunned butt long enough to help me get into this thing or am I gonna haveta get into this harness all by myself?"

Hank saw the look of sweaty determination in his paramedic's face and found that he couldn't counteract his decision to fly out for help. He just nodded once at Mike, tersely, without saying anything.

Johnny ran off into the darkness, followed quickly by Roy and Stoker at his heels.

Chet Kelly circled until the cliff sides of Marco's canyon were whizzing by under his sneakered toes. He barely banked around a small tree in the way as he glided his wingtips lower and lower down with each pass, until suddenly there was no more room for him to travel. Just solid rock looming up before him.

Kelly panicked and pulled up on the flight bar, causing the hang glider to stall in mid air about twelve feet from the ground.

He landed nose down, heavily falling onto his right side with a cry of frustration. Then he got up.

The night's stillness surrounded him. Unclipping his harness straps and pulling off his helmet, Chet began to run towards the bushes which ringed the place he remembered as framing where Marco had fallen.

He found him.

"Marco?" gasped Chet, kneeling quickly at Lopez's head. He gently rolled him over as a unit and Kelly bent down, listening over his nose and mouth.

Lopez was breathing shallow and fast. Chet took a pulse at his neck.  
It was rapid.

Sweeping down Marco's body for blood and problems, Kelly found a soft spot on Lopez's left side along the ribs. When he pressed the area lightly, Marco moaned faintly. Chet studied his face. "You are a mess." he complained. But he got happier when he didn't find any signs of active bleeding anywhere. He paused only briefly over the leg splint which was still doing its job even though it was muddy and very torn.

He moved further on his survey to course down Marco's good leg, splitting his jeans cuff open with a pocket knife.

Turning the limb over at a feeling of dampness, Chet spotted two wet spots glistening in the waning daylight on Marco's calf. He recognized them as fang marks. "You tangled with a snake, too? Oh, Marco,..why'd you have to go and do a Johnny Gage? I'm not a paramedic here.." he mumbled, hesitating over the puncture wounds. Then training took over and he tore part of the splint's binding free, to use as a restricting band and he used it to tie off the blood flow just below Lopez's knee above the bite. "We've got nothing to worry about." he told Marco's still form. "The guys know exactly where we are. They're going for help."

-  
Johnny nodded once at the others behind him with a confidence he didn't feel as he adjusted his radio helmet on a little tighter. Then he ran forward, hanging onto the flight bar as sent his hang glider off the edge of the dune.

He couldn't help himself. His screams began immediately as the first sickenly lurch downward took hold. Then the wind captured the wings and lifted him back up with a jerk into the opposite direction.

Gage careened sideways, overbalancing, and his legs kicked out as he swooped and dived up and down, wildly fighting the flight bar and glider physics for control.

He couldn't hear the shouts of encouragement the others were calling to him over the radio as he fought to calm the glider against a strong breeze as he gained altitude. He lived a rollercoaster nightmare until he remembered what he saw Chet and Marco and Kip doing to steer the kites. He straightened his body and relaxed into a push up layout with his hands gripping right next to the landing wheels on the triangle bar. The glider levelled off and the violent cloth rippling above him died away into soft rustles. He stopped falling.

"Hehhehe.." he trickled at last. "Hey guys, I think I got the hang of it."  
At their groans, he apologized. "Sorry for the pun. Aiming for the beach now." he told them.

The firemen watched as their messenger sank out of sight into the land's shadows. Then they began to pack up camp to head for the airport on the way to meet the rescue crews when they finally arrived.

-  
Chet was scoping out some shelter for Marco when Lopez regained consciousness with loud groans and yells. He went running back to his side.

Kelly knelt by his head and helped Marco roll onto his back again from the recovery position Chet had left him in. "That was a good healthy scream. Glad to see you're feeling better.." Chet said happily, supporting Lopez's head while he attempted to focus on his face.

Marco was very groggy and it took him a while to recognize Chet.  
Finally, he gasped out a word. "Hey..."

"Hey..." answered Kelly softly, concerned. He waited while Marco worked through some shortness of breath and confusion.

"Wh--where are we?" Lopez whispered.

"We're down inside a rock quarry." Chet told him.

"How the h*ll did that happen?"

"You crashed your glider."

Marco got mad. "I know I crashed my glider. I hit a tree. How did I get down here?"

Chet shrugged, still leaving a hand on Marco's chest. "I don't know. I guess you fell trying to get away from that snake."

"Snake?" Marco asked muzzily. Recollection was slow, but it did come.  
"Oh,.. the snake.." he sighed sarcastically as he lowered his head down onto the fanny pack Chet deftly placed underneath his dusty head. Marco winced as he tried to move.

"Easy.." said Chet, grabbing onto his shoulders..

"Help me up, ok?" Lopez told him, gasping.

Kelly did, so his breathing would ease, and he started to lift Marco against his chest. He felt both of his hands to see how cold he was getting with the night's arriving chill. "Come on." he smiled, not letting his worry show when he found clamminess to go along with icy skin. "Come up. I got you."

Marco drew in a greater breath in half relief once he was upright onto his butt. He noticed the new dressing over his snakebite. "Did you do this?"

"Yep." said Chet mildly, still watching Marco's reactions closely.

"It's a good job." Lopez tried to smile.

"Thanks."

Then Marco's face twisted in strain. "Oh, Chet, I broke my leg." he sobbed.

"You sure did." Kelly agreed. "But you did a nice job on the splint though."  
he said, passing over a canteen so Marco could sip some water to ease a his dry mouth.

Marco took a long swallow. "Uh,..brr..." he said, shivering, drawing his jacket closer around himself.

"Yeah, looks like we're in for a chilly night..." Kelly shared with him.

Lopez stabbed him with a glare. "What do you mean we're in for a chilly night? What are you doing hanging around here? Why don't you go get help?"

"I can't. We're stranded." Chet admitted, taking back the canteen Marco handed to him to seal up again. "I can't carry you outta here. I glided in."

Marco was flippant. "You glided in.. Huh. That's brilliant." he said.  
Then he threw up a careless hand. "Well, at least you brought your headset."

"Yes, I brought my headset." said Chet, nodding.

"Great.." said Marco, lowering himself back down onto the medkit pillow to get comfortable.

Kelly went on. "....but a headset doesn't work 300 feet down in a rock quarry."  
Chet explained, biting his lip.

Marco's face fell into a firm line. "Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked tersely.

Chet began to fidget self consciously, shaking his head in an adamant no while looking everywhere else but at Marco.

Lopez asked it anyway. "Where did you learn your rescue training anyway?"

It was Kelly turn to bristle a bit, but he kept his temper under admirable control for Marco's sake and health. "I'm going to go look for some shelter." he said neutrally, pointing at the narrow canyon walls surrounding them.

"Good. Great idea. You go do that." said Marco, still mad. He shifted around onto his side to try and find some sleep. "I'll wait here.." he retorted, "Huh. He glides in...." he complained as Chet jogged away from him.

But sleep didn't come, only nausea... And fever.

-  
Johnny had a very short flight back to civilization. It took about five minutes despite his helicopter like vantage point from the hang glider. ::Thank God it's a small island.:: he thought with relief.

The Casino Dive Park beach lay just below him in the soft darkness. He aimed for where he could see a black strip between the sidewalk running lights and the surf's moonglow glistening white caps. ::That's sand. It's soft.::

Lower and lower he came, until he narrowly missed pulling up to avoid a life guard tower's flagpole. He took it out with a wing tip, wavered in his flight,  
then crashed onto the beach.

A figure came running out of the darkness from the dive shop. "Hey, are you all right? Why'd you land so late? Don't you know it's against the law to fly after sundown?" said the angry shop owner, who righted the hang glider's nose up to see the dazed and sandy Gage struggling to free himself out of the harness underneath it. "You're one of those camping firemen, aren't you?" asked the man.

Johnny coughed out sand. "Some landing, huh?"

"Well, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. It's a friend of mine who's in trouble."

"Well, why didn't you say so? I got a golf cart right over here.  
Don't worry about the flagpole. Hang gliders knock it down all the time landing here. I got a deal worked out with the park people who patch it up again in return for being able to park their boats on my pier." said the man with a shrug.

Gage listened impatiently. "You got a phone?"

"No, I ..uh. I don't. My shop's kinda small."

"Can I borrow your wheels then.." Gage asked like a bulldog on a bone.  
It was not a question.

"Sure. My golf cart's right over there by that palm tree. Just bring it back in the morning for I'm gonna be using it to bring tourists down from the hotel to the glass bottom boat tour's launching slip."

"Ok.." said Gage, looking around the Victorian built looking buildings, bistros and clifftop houses. "Uh,...Look, where exactly are we mister? I'm not familiar enough with Avalon to get around even with that cart you're loaning me."

"Listen, buddy, this road's Cabrillo Mole. To get to Fire Station 55, hang a right on Crescent Avenue, left on Descanso Ave. Take that all the way to the end until you reach Tremont Street. Hang an immediate right, then an immediate left onto Avalon Canyon Road. Take that and go all the way past the golf course in towards the interior's fire station's white with mint green doors. There's a three tiered spanish adobe style fire bell tower to the west surrounded by plenty of palmettos near a sitting park. You can't miss it.  
The fire chief's there with three captains, three engineers, three on duty firefighters with the potential on-call crew of 25 more. Once they know the problem, they can set off the fire siren to call em in. It'll go on, then off again, and back on in a triplet of thirty second intervals once it's been committed. Mister, they can get one of Mercy Air's birds or the Coast Guard on the fly in seconds."

"How far is it?" asked Johnny.

"About four minutes. Less than twelve hundred feet if you put the cart's petal to the metal. I'll run this way and notify the county lifeguards about your friend. Their office is at the end of my pier." he said pointing to a Victorian stencilized sign that said, "Pleasure Pier." at the foot of a green painted pier stretching out into Avalon Bay.

"Lifeguards? Must be one of my county's Baywatch teams.  
I'm a paramedic. Who do they use for emergency communications way out here?"

"I think it's still the L. Sheriff's dispatch."

"Thanks, mister, for the use of this. " said, Gage, accepting a key with a small rubber water float attached to it from the shop owner. "I gotta go."

"I've no doubt of that. Good luck finding your friend." shouted the local as Johnny climbed into the white and red cart and sped away.

"I'll let you know how it turns out.." Johnny promised with an urgent outstretched wave.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet grunted as he dragged Marco into a cave that he had found. For a travois,  
he had used the nose frame of his glider as a drag. Lopez hung on for dear life as he was thunked over rocks and boulders that littered the cave's floor.  
"I started a fire. It's nice and cozy in here." he told Marco as he struggled to pull him deeper into the cave. "All right.. Here. we go.." he grunted gain. "Ok.. I got you." he said as he finally got Marco next to the fitful blaze he had going in a rocky depression. "One, two, three.... ready?"

"Yeah.."

"Ok, I got ya." Kelly struggled over the last large rock in the way.

Lopez screamed in pain when Chet dropped his glider made stretcher down too quickly over the last rock.  
"There. Sorry.." Kelly said, collapsing onto his butt to rest.

Both men just rested for a while, breathing fast in the cold silence.

Marco readjusted painfully on the metal frame, trying to get pressure off of his cracked ribs as a new layer of sweat built on his face.  
"Oww,... Oh,.. man..."

Kelly, tried to catch his breath, too, and he wiped wind blown dirt out of his eyes. "What'd ya think?" he said, sweeping a proud hand over their little emergency camping area.

"I think it would be better if you put me over there...." said Marco wearily, pointing a slow finger.

"Oh,, uh, what?" Chet exclaimed sarcastically.

"The other side of the fire. Yeah, that's better.."

Kelly shook his head in disagreement, having come to the end of his strength.

Marco picked up his head, getting anxious. "Well, the least you can do is get branches and some bigger logs. This thing's only gonna last about twenty minutes.." he complained, gesturing at the feeble fire.

Chet finally let loose. "I found the cave. I built the fire. I know what I'm supposed to put in it." he told Lopez sharply.

Marco blinked. "Why are you getting testy with me? I'm the one with the broken leg and the snake bite here."

Chet stared incredulously at him as if he were some odd specie of fauna, with half guilty for backtalking and half not written all over his features.  
"You're also the one with a strange way of showing your appreciation."

Lopez suddenly doubled up in pain, holding his left leg. "Oh, ugHH!"  
he grimaced, holding it. His hands were trembling.

"What's the matter?" Kelly said, scrambling back over to Marco's side.

"The bite. I think it's...starting to go.....bad." he gasped.

Chet looked up at him, reaching down to touch a new area of red skin on Marco's thigh. "Does this hurt?"

"AckkKKK! Of course that hurts!" Lopez screamed at the lightest brush of Chet's fingers.

Kelly whipped away the offending hand. "Ok, sorry. I'm sorry.. I had to know."

Marco lowered back down onto his makeshift pillow, trying to slow his breathing rate. "Is the swelling moving up my leg?"  
he asked fearfully.

"Yep." Chet said, examining the skin by firelight. Then he shifted his eyes upwards. "But your color's still good."

Lopez waved a weak hand over the tourniquet. "You gotta move that thing."

"I know to move this thing." said Chet defensively, Marco's fear rubbing off on him. "Ok, ok,.. I'm doing it.. ready?" he said, untying the knot of glider material banded around his calf.  
Kelly slipped it higher up until it was above Marco's knee at the thigh and then he retightened it.

Lopez bit his lip, stifling another scream.

"Ok,.. easy.. This tourniquet's gonna buy us some time.  
but I guess it can't last us forever.." Chet told him honestly.  
"We're gonna get you outta here." he said. "We're gonna get you outta here real soon.." he soothed.

Chet was startled when he didn't get a reply back.

Kelly looked up, glancing at Lopez's damp face. "Marco?"

But Lopez didn't hear him.  
Marco was shivering in a fitful half sleep, reacting to the surge of venom that had been re-released into his bloodstream,  
and both of his hands were gripping the front of his shirt in a paltry attempt to fend off the chill.

Chet took off his jacket, instantly chastizing himself for forgetting the most common way to treat shock as he used it to cover him up snuggly.

Kelly buttoned up his own shirt as high as it could go at the collar to conserve heat and he began to rub his arms briskly to try and warm them as the wind howled mournfully at the mouth of their tiny cave. He kept a few fingers on the rapid pulse beating at Marco's elbow to reassure himself that he was still with the land of the living.

"Hold on, pal. Help's gotta be on its way soon if it isn't already."  
said Chet for his own ears' sake so he wouldn't start despairing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Man down in a rocky gorge.

Photo: Hang glider taking off.

Photo: Avalon, CA at night.

Photo: Casino Music hall and Baywatch lifeguard boat.

Photo: The Avalon Fire Department

Photo: Glider flying down to the ocean.

Photo: A snake bit leg closeup.

Photo: Chet and Marco lying down.

********************************************************************* From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Mon Jun 5, 2006 6:35 pm Subject: Juxtaposition...

Marco awoke to the sound of a stick snapping.

He opened his eyes and found Kelly seated by a much larger fire, breaking a pair of green twigs into smaller pieces.  
Chet smiled at him warmly. "I brought you a given special."  
he said, handing over one of the toyon branches that he had found. "Chew on that. It's got vitamins and minerals in the bark. My dad showed me where to find these for a quick snack while we were cattle rustling once in Wyoming."

Lopez took the stick and noticed movement under the bright green inner bark's layer. He peered a little closer. "It's got plenty of protein, 's a family of termites living in here."

Chet's eyes widened and he snatched back the branch in horror and disgust. They were there. He felt like an *ss.  
Angrily, he tossed the offending twig into the fire to burn with the others.

Marco sighed and closed his eyes wearily. "How could you fly off.. to save me ...without bringing me any food, huh?"

Kelly told him how it was. "I had to choose between the medkit,  
and a roast beef sandwich."

Lopez scoffed in his dilirium. "Yeah, right. Like a candy bar really takes up a lot of room."

Chet got mad, his patience gone. "Remind me never to save you again..." he said defensively.

Marco lifted his head in amazement. "You call this a save?"  
he asked with light sarcasm.

"I call this a save." said Chet firmly, holding his ground.

Lopez begged to differ, and he held up a dirty, waggling finger.  
"No, no. I'll tell you what a save is. A save...is when I am stretched out at home, in a warm bed, with lots of hot food and lots of loved ones.." he winced. "...fussing over me. That's....a save." Then he relaxed back into a half state.

Kelly shook his head in annoyance, mumbling to himself as he tended the fire. "I should have brought the roast beef sandwich."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was morning, first light.

Chet was once again hard at work dragging Marco's makeshift travois out of the cave and into the open to try and warm him in the growing sunlight. It had been a rough night of pain for Lopez when he often became lost in fevered nightmares.

The wind around them was anything but friendly. It was blowing hot, and wild, casting leaves, dust and insects into the air in a flurry of swirls, with a roar.

Marco felt some flying sand sting his cheek and it triggered a new surge of mindless anxiety in him. He began to struggle under Chet's coat as he grabbed at the glider straps holding him down. "We...gotta get outta here. We...g--" he sobbed.

Kelly gripped his arms tighter, afraid Marco was going to hyperventilate himself into a blind panic. "Hold on. Hold on."  
he said, grabbing both of Marco's hands into his own so that he could feel them. "I'm right here, pal. Just try to relax..."

A part of Lopez heard him and he made a huge effort to slow his rising breathing rate by tightening his crampy stomach muscles.  
It worked. The wave of misery passed, leaving Lopez limp.

Kelly noticed that his eyes were starting to roll up into his head.  
With a start, he grabbed for Marco's inner arm for another pulse check.

Lopez pulled his elbow away. "What are you doing? I'm ok.." he said self defensively.

"We're here. I need the practice." Chet told him with a soft but no-nonsense worry.

Marco frowned, gasping, and he looked at the fingers gripping his arm. He couldn't feel them. Scared, he let Chet get his count.  
"Yeah." he agreed. "Do me a favor, would ya?"

"What?" Chet asked him, trying to smile.

"Watch out for Boot for me, ..will you?" Lopez whispered.

Kelly's face twisted in emotion and he looked away suddenly to hide the tears which sprang up unbidden.

Marco paled and he started to slip into unconsciousness.  
"I'm just gonna take a little rest. Yeah,...take a little--" his voice trailed off and his eyes closed. The brachial pulse under Chet's hand disappeared.

Chet's despair returned full fold and he violently wiped away the moisture in his eyes. He gave into crying eventually, staying silent so Lopez wouldn't know how frightened he was feeling.

Sniffling, Kelly moved his monitoring grip to Lopez's weak and thready carotid pulse as he scanned the sky desperately for signs of rescue.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Hank leaned into the Coast Guard pilot from where he wore his communications helmet. "Let's go lower..."  
he told him. "I don't understand it, we're not in darkest Africa.  
Where the h*ll are they?"

The fierce wind blowing in from the dawn warming ocean bucked and rocked the helicopter like a toy bobbling on a string.

The pilot shook his head.

Johnny and Roy re-examined the map authorities had given them of Catalina's terrain, tracing out another possibility and yet another canyon that might be holding Chet's hang glider. They had already located Marco's shredded one a half hour earlier.

Some of Avalon Fire Department's on-duty crew had remained behind in the forest to bag and carry out Kip the guide's body.

"Cap, the prevailing winds yesterday were north by north west."  
Johnny shared with him. "I got the weather report from the Sheriff's office before we took off. Maybe if we travelled in a line downwind from our campsite......"

"It's worth a shot." said DeSoto agreeing with his partner over their shared helmet frequency.

The pilot and Cap both nodded, redirecting the orange HH-65A Dolphin up and over the rise toward the dunes bed to the east.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet lifted his head from where he cradled Marco, guarding his airway.

He thought he had heard the unmistakable thwap of helicopter blades fighting high winds. He eased Lopez down off of his lap and turned him onto his side so he could breathe without his thickening tongue getting in the way.

Hurrying, Kelly ran to where he had tethered his brightly colored glider in the center of the tiny rock quarry. He lit up the SOS he had spelled out in termite infested toyon branches with a fire brand.

The insects and bark began to burn with thick smoke. It was inky black, caused by the chemicals in their bodies. The messaging column rose high into the air as an urgent signal sent on the wind.

Then Chet spotted them. A tiny, moving orange dot in a big blue sky....

"Here! Down here!" Chet shouted gleefully, waving his arms wildly.

-  
Gage nearly jumped out of his seat. "There's Chet!" he yelled.  
"I don't see Marco but he's got to be close by if Kelly made a landing there to spend the night."

Stanley pressed his nose against the search window. "How the h*ll did they get down there?" said Cap as he got a better and better view of just how steep and small the gorge they had found actually was. Hank tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Bring it around.." Cap told him, pointing to the left in a downward gesture. "It's actually them this time."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kelly began leaping about ecstatically in celebration when he saw the helicopter finally circle his location. "Yeah! Yeah!" he shouted.

Then he ran back to wait with Marco while the others landed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roy looked at one of the Avalon Baywatch guards wearing an overland jumpsuit. "Would you mind at all if the two of us rappel down with the rest of you guys?" he said, indicating Johnny and himself.

Cap waited expectantly for the lifeguard captain's decision.

Lifeguard Paramedic Steve Troegger shook his head. "You're fully qualified and technically still in your legal service area. I'm not gonna stop either one of you from doing whatever you want. I know how I'd react if that were one of my crewmates trapped down there.  
Knock yourself out, fellas. The only stipulation is that you let my paramedics treat any problems as they're the ones who're considered officially first in by the city."

"You are heading this rescue mission." said Gage with a smile.  
"I promise. My partner and I'll just hover."

"Thanks, captain. We appreciate it." said Roy.

"Likewise.." answered Hank from his search window seat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet crowed over the roar of the descending helicopter.  
"Hang on, Marco. We're almost home!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stoker spoke into his radio to the hospital in town. "We've spotted them. We're going in for a closer look."

##10-4, Medevac 1. Mercy Air will meet you at the airport for your patient transfer. We'll be waiting. ## said a female voice over the radio channel patched into their chopper cabin commline.  
## Call us back when you have your initial patient report and I'll have Dr. Greene standing by. Avalon Municipal, out.##

Roy looked up at Mike. "Who was that?" he asked with genuine surprise.

Stoker shrugged. "One of the nurses at the hospital I guess.  
She said they still have two open beds available if we need them."

Gage started chuckling. "I must be getting a little homesick. She sounded a lot like Dixie McCall."

The pilot spoke up. "Dixie McCall? Of Rampart General?"

"Yeah.. you know her?" Gage wondered.

"No, I know OF her, though. Through that RN you just heard. That nurse you just checked in with was the one and only one we have on the island, Jo Swett. Jo talks about Dixie all the time. Seems they trained together in nursing school until Jo left the mainland in 1966 to come here." he said.

"No kidding. Do they still keep in touch with each other?"

"I wouldn't know, boys. Probably not I'd guess. Head nurses are kept too busy to hang onto old connections sometimes. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Roy agreed.

"Ok, here comes the tricky part." said the pilot. "Everybody,  
hang on. We're going in. It's bound to get a little bumpy.."

The coast guard chopper started to give away altitude, but gust after gust of wind buffeted the sides of the craft, making it rock and pitch with rolls and violent yawing.

The pilot decided not to make the attempt. "We can't land here.  
The crosswinds are too strong. We'll land on the bluff. Avalon FD can route our climbing gear to us there."

The Baywatch and Station 51 crews all nodded.

The helicopter stopped fighting for a level as the pilot carried them back up into calmer air.

"This fire road ends in five hundred yards.." the coast guarder said. "I'll land us at the top of the quarry. Then you can rappel down." Then he got on the radio to the island village's fire department; Avalon. "Meet us at coordinates 693 at 7-0."

##This is Chief Hoefs. I copy Medevac's rendevous point.## came the reply. ##Six, nine, three at seven oh.##

Hank met the Avalon Fire Department along with Baywatch Avalon's Captain Troegger outside the waiting aircraft. Stanley filled them in after some short introductions. "They're at the bottom of a rock quarry. We can make it down the south face. Is all the gear ready, sir?" he said, flashing his fire captain's badge.

The fireman in charge of the equipment nodded. "Yeah." And he ran through a fast scene checklist. "Three five hundred length Borders?"

"Check." said another man.

"Slings?" asked the first.

"Check." said the second.

"And anchor points?"

"Check."

"All right, let's go." Avalon's fire chief ordered. "Troegger, head both teams going down. I'll coordinate with Mercy and relay your found patient ICR data to them."

"Right, Steve." said Troegger.

Everybody who could gear up for the descent to come, did.

The rescue using ropes, began.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet held Marco's head as he struggled to awaken, and talked to him. "Hang in there. I can see Roy and Johnny coming fast for us, pal." he said, keeping his eye on the rocks above. "It won't be long now at all."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baywatch Avalon's team along with Roy and Johnny, made bottomfall.

They disconnected the stokes litter from the guide rope it was tied to and all six of them ran over to where they could see Kelly's form bending over something.

Roy shouted. "Chet! Where's Marco?"

"Right here. With me!"

The two on the lifeguard crew who were paramedics nudged between Roy and Johnny apologetically when they all got there.

Johnny asked Kelly. "How's he doing?"

Chet answered very eagerly. "Blood pressure's low. Snake bite's been swelling up for the last couple of hours. He's got at least two broken ribs.... And that.." he said, pointing to the leg split.

Troegger nodded as his medic partner assessed Marco's breathing after he had applied some oxygen from his backpack.  
"Neck? Back?"

Kelly shook himself out of a daze of relief at being found. "Uh,  
They seem ok." he said with a nod of dismissal.

Troegger directed a lift to get Lopez into the stokes from off the glider travois. "Ready on three..." he said.

Roy, Johnny, and the others all grabbed belt loops, shorts material, shoulders, and head for the move.

Johnny snuck in a pulse check from his place at Marco's neck. "It's 130..but nice and regular.." he reported. "Man,  
is this poison oak?" he asked Troegger, gesturing down at Marco's legs and arms and face.

"Yeah, it grows all over the island. It was unintentionally introduced by ranchers growing hay. Don't touch him too much or you'll itch for weeks later." said the Baywatch paramedic in warning.  
"Ready to lift? On three...." he skipped counting 1 and 2 and went straight to 3 to spare Marco the wait. "Three.." he said, and Marco was moved.

Pain roused Lopez out of his stupor. "AHHhhhhhh..! " he groaned.  
Then he grunted, trying to hide how much he was hurting from the others. "Nggnnn." he grimaced as he was settled and covered with a tarp in the stokes.

Soon they were at the top and paused for an I.V. start and a hefty MS injection.

"Hey, Cap.." Lopez said after a fast flow of electrolytes had sharpened his awareness back to near normal.

"Hey, Marco.." said Hank happily. "Don't worry. We rescued your glider. Won't cost you a dime to replace it at the rental place since you were with their guide when you crashed."

"I'm sorry he died. He seemed like he would have been a really fun guy to hang out with..." quipped Marco in a morbid joke.

Johnny groaned at the pun that he himself had used the day before.

Cap, Stoker, Roy and Chet all smiled at that sign of returning vigor.

"Hey, Chet.." Lopez whispered.

Kelly knelt near, giving Marco a couple of raised eyebrows to show that he was paying attention. "Hmm.."

"Thanks.." Marco said, and meaning it.

Kelly smiled, his face so full of emotion, that it made his eyes almost start to water again.

Lopez cleared some phlegm out of his throat uncomfortably at the intense warm scrutiny by which he was being regarded.  
"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" he mock snapped at Roy and Johnny to get him going to the hospital.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At Avalon Municipal, Roy and Johnny had their eyes opened when they finally met Head Nurse Jo Swett in what served as the hospital's trauma receiving.

She was unique, in all respects. And the doctor heading her was equally interesting to Roy and Johnny.

Gage and DeSoto were eager to learn more about them now that Marco had been stabilized and treated for his injuries.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: The catalina coast.

Photo: Air station L.A.

Animation: Willow Creek falls.

Photo: A Catalina rattlesnake.

Photo: Chet's hang glider guide, Kip.

Photo: Catalina avalon FD truck.

Photo: Baywatch Avalon paramedic chopper.

Photo: Baywatch lifeguard paramedic.

Photo: Chopper fly over cliff.

Photo: Roy with stokes in a cliff climb.

Photo: Marco down getting treated by gang.

Photo: Catalina Avalon Municipal hospital. (Real life Midway Island Hospital. Circa 1944)

From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Thu Jun 8, 2006 3:09 am Subject: That Small Town Charm..

That was once they got over the fact that Avalon's hospital only had twelve patient beds.

Dr. William Greene nodded at his head nurse. "Jo,..I'm ordering up these lab studies on Mr. Lopez : A CBC with manual differential and peripheral blood smear, a prothrombin time and activated partial thromboplastin time, along with a fibrinogen and split products test. Get a type and cross and blood chemistries, including electrolytes, BUN, creatinine. We'll need to get a urinalysis to check for myoglobinuria and an arterial blood gas determination since he's feeling some systemic symptoms. Besides that leg, please order up a baseline chest radiograph, I found some mild P.E. Oh, and a plain radiograph to rule out any retained fangs."

"I'll get right on it. And I'll be right back with all of you boys." said the silver haired round nurse named Jo Swett as she picked up a phone to call the hospital's on duty pink lady to handle getting the needed specimen samples Bill had ordered.

Roy and Johnny's eyebrows went up completely when she recited Greene's verbatim word for word to her staffer without scribbling down a single note.

"How'd you do that?" Gage sputtered when she was through.  
He immediately checked himself in embarrassment at being so blunt. "I mean,.. remember what he ordered so well."

Jo smiled. "I've been doing this a long time. Since 1966, Mr. Gage.  
And in the early days, we didn't have computers and even now we don't have student nurses to transcribe any orders down as they're given. It's just me to make due."

Roy turned back to Dr. Greene who was washing his hands clean in a sink behind his nurse. "So how's he doing, doc? The rest of the fellas over there and I really want to know." he said throwing a hand at the others seated in a small waiting area. He watched as the doctor peered around the x-ray machine getting wheeled in for Marco's use.

Greene grabbed up a blue surgical towel to dry off. "Well, the guilty culprit who bit your friend has definitely been identified as a Pacific rattler. And we all know that in 80% of cases, their bites are usually dry and harmless. I ordered those tests just as a precaution."

That got Chet's attention from the chair he sat in nearby. "You mean, he's not gonna need any antivenin? What about all that swelling and the fever he had going last night?"

"That was poison oak exposure and what I think is a simple fibula fracture working." said the doctor. "Those were purely reflex immunological responses. Nothing else."

Kelly went limp against the medical desk in obvious relief.

"That's great." said Captain Stanley. "So how long will Marco have to stay here? You see, we're on vacation and--"

Bill smiled, looking fatherly. "Captain, all of my patients with the exception of a rare winter local or two, are tourists like yourself.  
I assure you Mr. Lopez will be tied up only long enough to be fitted for a walking cast and an application of hydrocortisone for his rash. His vital signs are very normal now."

"Really?" asked Stoker.

Bill nodded. "I'll get right back to you folks as soon as I get a little repair work done. Up there.." he said pointing to the ceiling.

Johnny's eyebrows went up.

Greene explained. "The city wanted someone doctoring on the island, if a tile breaks on the roof, who would be up there in his boots, hammering. I have many different hats.  
I'm Avalon Municipal's CEO, doctor, city official and general handyman. Nine years ago, my wife Trish and I had our belongings hauled here on a barge when I took this job. And since then, I've never looked back to the mainland. I love it here. We have our usual small town challenges. Avalon has 4,200 permanent residents, all of whom pick up their mail at a central post office and go days without milk or bread whenever storms prevent shipments from the mainland. And I usually take my house calls on a golf cart as I'm the only full time physician on staff."

Roy and Johnny blinked skeptically.

"Don't worry." he told the two paramedics."When it's gets busy, we have four temporary physicians, who rotate in from the mainland every five,six, or seven days. Usually, that's not necessary though since we at the hospital average only about two patients a day."

Cap gaped. "Why that's hardly enough to cover your overhead costs." he exclaimed in surprise.

Greene nodded, taking up a coffee pot and holding it out for the others in invitation. Only Chet accepted a cup.  
"I have a 10-by-10-foot office at the far end of the hospital with one administrative assistant helping me manage things. Last year, we had more than $2 million dollars worth of services that had gone uncollected."

"Why's that?" Roy asked.

"The city runs all potential critical patients to the mainland, once they've been stabilized here, by helicopter. Trip takes about thirty minutes. And the ruling about state sales taxes being 30% higher on the island only puts a dent into our budget deficit because in the winter, our population dwindles down to just a few, like any other tourist town along the coastline,  
and their potential revenue leaves with them. But we're making good headway." Greene said. "We've just about gotten through a huge pile of old bills that had been sitting on the office floor for the past six months.'' he winked. "Excuse me. But a storm's coming. I've that roof to see to next. Ask Jo for absolutely anything you need, and it'll be done." he winked. "I'll catch up more with you when I get back."

The gang waved and then got a hold of their mutual collective head shakes of wonder and amazement. Chet leaned into the counter and sagged almost nose to nose with their nurse. "So, Ms. Swett, how did such an attractive nurse like you get to end up here? The Coast Guard pilot seemed to know a lot about you and a mutual friend of ours."

"Oh, you mean Dixie? How's she doing? It's been a few months since we've exchanged letters." answered Jo, not buying one minute of Chet's Don Juan-ing bull.

"She's fine. She's fine. Still at it at the front desk of the emergency room." Gage told her empathetically. "But how come she's never mentioned ya to us?"

"Maybe that's because we get along so famously. Dixie usually only grouses about people who've irked her in some way to her friends."

Roy started grinning. "Dr. Morton, Dr. Brackett.. that high powered administrator upstairs...." he listed off. "That's true."

Jo laughed and took a deep breath. "Actually Mr. Kelly,  
I saw a want ad that changed my life. What I was doing with Dixie in pediatrics at Rampart wasn't what I wanted to do." she said. "I grew up in Boston, so the idea of moving to an island was interesting. Here I can provide in-home care to a variety of patients, and I simply love the night shift. I figure I am the only nurse in the whole United States who works all by herself at night.  
I get up in daylight for emergencies, like yours today."

"Is Avalon Municipal a full service hospital?" asked DeSoto.

"Oh, sure. We can do tonsillectomies, hernia repairs, hysterectomies and gall bladder surgeries, minor trauma repair. The surgeons fly in from St. Mary's and bring their own anesthesiologists. Usually the local doctor, Bill Greene, is the assistant." she said proudly with amusement. "And when we're having a baby, I like to go around to the other patients and I ask them, 'Are you going to need anything, we're going to have a baby now.' And once the baby's born I love taking the infant on rounds to meet the other patients while the mother's recovering."

Johnny chuckled. "Do you get many emergency cases in any given year."

"Oh, yes.." said Jo empathetically. "Especially in the summer.  
Like now. Recently we've had a lot of cases like Mr. Lopez's."

"Really.." said Hank. "I thought our man's rescue was highly unusual."

Jo shrugged. "People seem to fall prey to the James Bond syndrome when they get here; what else can I say? Everybody gets the feeling that they're invincible while they're diving or flying Catalina. I've never understood that effect. But I appreciate that it pays my salary." she laughed. "The pace is slow, with the upgrades in my training and visiting patients, I'll admit. But there's a certain charm here that I've since fallen in love with. I didn't learn how to do an IV until 1970, but now I've lifeguard paramedics to rely on. I enjoy what I do I've no plans to retire anytime soon for there's a record I want to hold first - Oldest Working Nurse in California."

"So, are you gonna make it?" Chet quipped daringly.

Hank smacked his arm, right on the sunburned spots.

"Oww!" Chet protested.

Jo only smiled, used to firefighters' antics. "There are one or two who are older," she said. "I just hope they retire before I do."

Mike Stoker had wandered over to the baby window, noticing a single infant sleeping in an incubator, on an ekg machine. It was only then that the others noticed a sound monitor turned on at Jo's desk near her hand. A contented coo issued from it.

Curious, the gang joined him to see the baby.

"Aww, she's cute. Where's her mother?" Stoker asked Jo, who had followed them over.

"She doesn't have one." said Jo simply.

The look on the gang's faces registered incomprehension.

"Baby Jane was left at our fire department steps about a day after she was born." Jo told them quietly.

Chet soured. "But who could just up and leave a newborn like that. That's...that's...insane..!" he finally said.

"Not really. Ever heard of the Safe Surrender law just passed this year in the state of California?" Swett said.

The gang shook their heads no.

"The City of Avalon is ready to accept unwanted newborns and get them into safe hands. No questions asked. If the mother does the right thing and gets her baby to a designated safe surrender location within 72 hours of birth, there will be no shame, no blame, no names and there will be no prosecution. The Avalon Fire Department is a vital link in a strategy to create a countywide safety net of Safe Surrender locations so underpriviledged babies won't ever have to suffer their parents socio-economically suppressed lifestyles."

Roy was the only one who understood those ramifications. "There is a need for it. I'm glad such a law exist now, for sometimes, Johnny and I treat those kids and babies. And everytime, we've felt helpless that there wasn't anything further we could do for the mother after she signed off on our run sheet simply because she knew she couldn't ever pay our ambulance costs."

The gang spent a warm few minutes playing with the soon to be named baby girl until Marco was declared ready for visiting.

A half hour had gone by with everybody eating breakfast spread out over Marco's bed inside of his curtain cubicle, when Bill returned with his results.

"Marco.." said Dr. Greene. "You're fine. Your bloodwork's peachy king and your cast, perfect. But I wouldn't recommend you fellas returning to your campsite just yet. There's a storm approaching.  
I'm offering my house to all of you for sheltering while I'm working here tonight. Jo and I might get a few emergency cases coming from the water. Tourist boat outfitters always get a little stupid in squalls like this. And it looks like this one's going extratropical."

"Oh, no.." said Hank. "You mean like the Columbus Day storm of 1962 that started as Hurricaine Freida?"

"I'm afraid so."

Stanley stepped forward and briskly shook Bill's hand.  
"Doc, I appreciate it. We'll definitely take you up on that offer. But now we've got to go. We've family out flying at the airport."

"Who?" asked Jo.

DeSoto frowned. "My father and son. Let's hope they both don't think that they can outfly it like James Bond."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gang was halfway to the tiny terminal tower on the mountain when the rain began. Doctor Green suddenly came over their hand held VHF radio.. ##The storm's definitely going to hit Avalon. The fire department advises no travel.##

"We'll be careful.." Cap promised him.

Roy studied the sky that was still half clear from where he sat in the shuttle. "Where are they? How could they miss seeing a cloud that big?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Roy. But I promise you, we'll find out once we get there, one way or the other.." said Hank.

Photo: Avalon Muncipal Hospital.

Photo: Avalon hospital evac.

Photo: Dr. William Greene's life picture series.

Photo: Dr. William Greene's life picture series 2.

Photo: Catalina ambulance cart.

Photo: gang watches through window in street clothes.

Photo: Nurse Jo Swett and associate.

Photo: Building Catalina storm fog.

*  
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Thu Jun 8, 2006 1:39 pm Subject: Final Scene: Storms and Waters...

"Twice in one day? You're starting to make my boys smile, Captain Stanley.." said Chief Hoefs as he climbed down off of his station's fire truck as it arrived to the tarmack at the Airport In The Sky.

Hank shrugged. "What's sharing little business between firemen, eh?" he joked. But then his face transmuted into intense worry.

Mike Stoker offered the chief an update.  
"Sir, Chris DeSoto's been talking to us over the plane's radio."

"How far are out are they?" Hoefs asked seriously.

Roy added more. "My father's really got his hands full with just flying so that's why my son's been the one doing all the radio contact.  
Chris says they're about five miles to the west, northwest,  
flying through an active thunderhead. They've lost power due to a lightning strike and they've two failed engines."

"Do they still have fine control?" asked Hoefs.

"Their wing and tail flap hydraulics are all still reactive." DeSoto said.

Hank shouted over the powerful, wind gusting rainfall that was turning Catalina gray and frightening around them. "LAX says that they're in a good power-off glide back to the island. They were following the shortest route from Long Beach while over water, to see Land's End which Chris said was mapped in a flight plan of twenty two nautical miles."

Steve thought hard, trying to remember some facts about flying small aircraft.  
"The midway point of that route would be 11 NM. If your pilot remembered to check the performance chart for your airplane and see which altitude gave him a power-off gliding distance of 11 NM or greater, they should make back here, ok. "

"That's if they remembered to factor in the headwind component." said Stanley.

"Boy are we lucky they filed a flight plan with a request for VFR flight following." said Roy. "LAX got their distress call right away and put them on immediate priority."

"Where are they showing up on the mainland radar?" Hoefs asked.  
Roy shrugged his shoulders."I can't recall all the jargon, but a minute ago, Chris said he could see the lights of Two Harbors at the isthmus."

"Then they're eight minutes out, tops. We'll be ready. Best of luck, Hank." Hoefs said, crossing the fingers on his fire gloves.  
"Here's to talking them down successfully." said the yellow and tan outfitted fireman.

"Piece of cake." said Hank with very sound, positive feeling while he gave his counterpart a resounding thumbs up. "See you when they touch down."

Steven Hoefs jogged away and began barking orders to his men to string hoses from a ground hydrant located near the airport building, mated to a small foam unit. Soon, a thick blanket of suppressant lay in a slurry across many dozens of feet along the terminal end of the high altitude scrubland runway.

Luckily, the rising storm winds didn't blow any of it away.

Then the Avalon firecrew set about laying two rows of cherry flares to illuminate the full length and stretched outline of the rocky runway. They were so bright, that the even the storm fierce night lit up in a brillant red glow from their multiple burning brands.

Johnny Gage had borrowed county turnout from Station 55 as had the rest of them, and he used a brainstormed idea of climbing the back of a nearby parked airplane to gain a better vantage point of the odd downsloping runway 22 through his binoculars. He shouted down to the others. "I don't see them yet, Cap. Chris's turned on the cabin lights so we can spot them a little better."

"Keep looking." said Stanley. "Give us the play by play, Johnny, over your radio so Roy'll know what to tell them as help while they're attempting to land. Some of their cockpit instruments may have been knocked out, too, and nonfunctional!"

##Dad, I'm scared.## boomed out Chris's voice over the fire engine speaker that Hoefs had tandem tuned into the plane's radio frequency and put out over the loud speaker so that all of his men could hear the plane.

Roy held up his plastic coated VHF Radio set to Unicom's frequency that was connecting all of them to Ian DeSoto's cockpit. "Chris, we're all right here with ya. And yes, the fire department's all set up and waiting for both of ya to stick the best possible landing you can." encouraged DeSoto, who tried very hard to not to let his voice tighten with emotion to where it would be audible to his son.

##Is the storm growing worse?##

"Yeah, Chris. I'm afraid it's....it's pretty bad fairly close to us to the east because we're so high up on top of the mountain." Johnny said in his own handheld receiver.

##Dad,.. I think grandpa's not telling me something. I think he's been hurt by a panel overload and isn't telling me.## said the teenager. ## I think I see a burn on his palm that wasn't there before we took off.##

"How's his consciousness level?" asked Roy, biting his lip.  
::If Ian blacks out..:: he quailed.

##He's still talking, but we're wavering all over the place. And he's sweating. Kinda pale.##

"Hang on, Chris. We're gonna come up with a backup plan for you.."  
s0aid Roy. "You just try to keep Grandpa focused, all right?"

Then he, Cap, Stoker and Avalon's fire chief fell into hurried discussion about other options for landing. Roy signaled up to Johnny with his arms outstretched like wings and waggled them into firm stillness like he was steadying himself.

Johnny got that idea right away.  
Gage spoke up. "Listen, Chris.. can you at least take over the plane's leveling handles? You're almost scot free. Ian can probably still do the rest of the hard parts."

##I....can...## grunted Ian DeSoto through the radio. ##Not much ...lightning....got to me....## gasped his strained voice.

Chris's voice came back on. ##Grandpa's showing me how to steady the wings, Dad. I think I can do this...## he said excitedly.

"I know you can, son." said Roy empathetically, letting the rain wash away a tear of fright.

Johnny began signalling away from his radio mic. "I see em! But there's a problem.. They're approaching us going the wrong way in relation to the runway. About two miles out."

The Chief issued another fast set of orders. "Boys, lay the other end in foam. Fast as you can. Their pilot's probably reversed his landing to try and handle all this fouling weather to get the best advantage. Move!" he said crisply.

The fire truck crew hastened to carry them out. Soon, the second location for foamed countermeasures was ready with yet another team of firefighters held at hose charged readiness.

At the same time, Johnny yelled again. "I lost sight of the plane.  
A cloud bank's rolled in! I'll try to find em again."  
Hoefs smiled under his water cascading helmet. "Your father's a smart man, DeSoto. He's getting the airport cliff's wind shear quirk out of the way first. Don't worry about medical gear for him.  
We've plenty for you and your partner to use."

Roy kept running cardiac anomaly scenarios through his head despite the Chief's kind reassurances.

##I see you!## said Chris suddenly as the stricken, silent plane burst through a black fold in the storming clouds with a crack of thunder, illuminated by lightning flash.

"I've a positive visual! They're right on track!" Gage said at the same time.

"Thank G*d they've run the gauntlet over that cliff ok.." sighed Roy. Then he picked up his radio. "How are the two of you doing, Chris? Talk to me.."

There was no reply.

"Chris?!" Roy said sharply. "Can you hear me?"

He received nothing but static over the radio. Frustrated,  
Roy let the radio fall away from his mouth. With nothing else possible for him to do, Roy felt his eyes glue to the storm silhouetted outline of white aircraft that Johnny was pointing to that was careening in jerks as it came down out of the sky.

All the fireman froze in place as the next few seconds determined the make or break of imminent disaster.

The little cessna's wheels touched down dead center of the cherry flares and absolutely parallel with their glowing white smoke sputtering rows.

Roy, Johnny, Cap and the others began cheering as they leaped onto Avalon's fire engine to rush down the runway after them.

A minute later, the cessna was dead stopped and safe.

Roy climbed onto the little plane's wing and pulled the door open. Chris had had the foresight to start Ian on the aircraft's tiny oxygen supply in a first aid attempt. "How's he doing?"

Chris answered. "He was just awake and talking to me, Dad, I don't understand it."

"Dad?" asked Roy, "Can you hear me?" he shouted frantically as he scrambled on board. He dug a grip around Ian's neck feeling for a carotid. "Can you breathe all right?"

The older man didn't move..

But then, Ian nodded, and took another solid deep breath under the oxygen's flowing face mask. And for show, he moved all of his arms and legs normally.

DeSoto sighed in relief when his fingers found a very regular and uncomplicated heartbeat down to the wrist. "No kerauno- or respiratory paralysis is present. Not even slightly, Johnny. Let's get him outta here and into the ambulance." he sighed in relief. Then he looked over at his son proudly. "You did a good job, Chris. A very good job."

"I didn't do anything, Dad. Grandpa did all the work. I just helped him out a little bit with all the levelling."

"Yeah, well that little bit saved you both. I'm proud of ya. We all are. Come on out of there so Johnny can get to work starting Dad's I.V. here. I've got someone I'd like you to meet outside."

"Who is he, Dad?" Chris wondered.

"Just think of him as Captain Stanley's island counterpart." he grinned. "Only a rank up. We owe him a very large favor for being here for us today. Twice, for that matter." he admitted.

"Why twice, Dad? And where's Marco? I don't see him anywhere out there."

"Well, Chris. That's a very long story. It just so happens those two facts are concurrent. I'll tell you once we're all warm, dry and comfortable at our new host, Dr. Greene's house."

"Ok.."

Hank Stanley came over just then, grinning. "Hey Roy, would you take a look at that? Guess what kind of ambulance they sent up here to meet us.."

"What is it?" asked DeSoto, opening up his father's shirt collar a little wider as he peered out through the rain showered windshield.

"It's a 1959 ...Catalina..." Stanley elaborated.

"Well, I'll be." chuckled DeSoto, laughing out loud.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The storm raged through most of the night, pounding Avalon Harbor and doing its best to damage infrastructure. But no more crises developed. The weather warnings put out by the county had done their job of keeping all of Catalina Island's tourists and locals safe.

Chet came out of the bedroom of Dr. Greene's cliffside house and marvelled at the view glowing in a brilliant sunny dawn splendor just beyond the glass panes framing the many windowed living room space. "Wow, this is the life. No wonder Bill bought land way up here. He's got this place laid out like a mountainside ski chalet. Although it would've completed the illusion if we had some serious snowing going on." Kelly sighed, putting his hands on his hips.

"That storm we didn't sleep through last night was more than enough for me, Chet. You can keep your snow." said Roy as he rebound his father's electrical burn. "How's that, not too tight?"

"It's fine, son. And yes, my headache's gone, too." said Ian, still loafing in an opulent leather recliner. "Once you two annoying paramedics decide you're done fussing with Marco and I, go out and have a little fun, huh?"

"Who's fussing?" said Johnny as he finished pulling a blood pressure cuff of Marco's arm. "We're only following Bill's orders to make sure you two relax enough to start healing properly." Gage said drolly.

Ian ignored him. "And take Chris with you. Show him a good time for me.  
I gotta find some way to thank him for saving me."

"Oh, Grandpa.." exclaimed Chris in his warm teenaged baritone.

Lopez jumped on the bandwagon.  
"Yeah, guys. We'll both manage. Can't say we're not in the lap of luxury here in the house. Wide screen TV, a wet bar, a jacuzzi..."

"Not in that cast.." Gage shook a finger at him.

"Johnny, I was only kidding about the whirlpool. I do know better."  
Marco frowned, taking another sip of his iced tea. "And if we get tired we can always go out onto the deck and nap in the sun."

Roy and Johnny looked around their rich, airy surroundings skeptically, but finally, in the end, they relented. "Fair enough.  
Ok, we'll go." said Cap for the rest of them.

"Take plenty of pictures for us. Then we'll have something to look at for this day we're missing..." said Marco empathetically as the guys and Chris trudged out the door with full sets of waving hands.

"We will.." they said.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gang was settled happily. They were enjoying a beach picnic at Parsons Landing while they lazily watched a scuba boat conducting its tourist pair through a diving experience just past the surfline.

Chet's sunburn had reached the peeling stage and he absently scratched while he munched away on five legs of Stoker's fried chicken. "Umm, Mike. Excellent as usual.... Say, guys, maybe we should make him cook chicken on a BBQ outside when we get home when it's his turn to cook again back at the station. Maybe we'll be able recreate today's dream feast if we do that."

"Not in a million years.." said Stoker. "I hate getting smoke in my eyes without a good reason for it."

"Spoken like a true veteran firefighter.." chuckled Cap.

Roy smiled. "So, Chet, what's on the agenda for today? We've already tried hang gliding.. What's next?"

"Surfing lessons.."

"Surfing lessons? Are you out of your everloving mind?!" roared Hank. "There's still massive storm surge out there. You like the idea of drowning in it?"

"No one's gonna drown, Cap. Johnny and I just wanna park on our stomachs on top of our boards and--"

"Gage,..you didn't encourage him on this, did you?" Stanley asked,  
redirecting his instant ire.

"Uh,..." Johnny stopped chewing his potato salad.

Chris began to giggle, pointing at Gage from where he said on their medical bag.

Kelly thrust Johnny out further along the limb.  
"He sure did. You see, Gage thought it would be less risky for us to swim today than to try flying anything after the experiences we've had to live through during the last two days." said Chet.

"Thanks a lot.." hissed Johnny through his teeth at Chet.

Kelly ignored him and took another sip of Diet Rite.

"Nope. I forbid it." Hank said evenly.

"You can't do that to us, Cap.. we're on vacation.." Gage protested.  
"We're not at the station for you to have the power to order us around."

"I'm not doing any forbidding because of how we usually work together while on the time clock. I'm putting my foot down because the two of you forgot something very fundamental about our outing today."

"Oh, yeah?" Johnny asked, still a little stung. "And what's that?"

Both Roy and Cap said the same thing at the same time.  
"A permit. "

Chet and Johnny both looked at each other wanly.

Roy elaborated. "You need one to enter the water for any kind of ocean activity here. It's in the park rules. See?"  
he said handing over a pamphlet. "Just read here by the number six."

Gage snatched it out of his hands, reading fast in irritation,  
with an equally miffed Chet, reading over his shoulder.  
In a few seconds, Johnny balled up and threw the park guidelines away over his head in disgust.

"No littering's allowed either.." said Hank matter of fact,  
with a neutral grin, pointing absently at the wad spinning in the sand in the wind.

Chet pinned the pale yellow paper down onto the sand with a newly flaking bare foot before an arriving gust could blow it away, and just glowered.

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Deep under the water, a diving instructor was doing a head count of his two tourist students while they explored a thick kelp forest that was rising up from the rocky floor thirty feet below. Their flipper strokes were lazy. :: All normal. These two catch on fast.:: he thought. ::Ahhh, so it's gonna be easy fee earning today. Cool..::

He had just looked at his watch to time their remaining regulator air when the man of the couple suddenly fell motionless to the bottom. ::Oh, sh*t..:: thought the instructor and he dove down to where the woman was panicking below as she gestured at her arms and legs still husband.

The instructor pulled the woman away from the man's face plate after making sure she had her own air still safely in her own mouth. He peered at the man's face through his mask. His eyes were open and dulled in a thousand-yards stare. ::He's out...::

The instructor dropped the man's weight belt completely off and then the woman's and his own as he grabbed the unconscious husband around the chest for an emergency ascent to the surface. As he kicked himself and his victim upward, he kept looking down to make sure that the woman was following them. ::We'll make it fine here without a decompression stop. We've only been down ten minutes.::

What he didn't know what that the couple had been diving the morning before with another dive company at depths below sixty feet. Unbeknownst to him, serious problems for them were already starting.

He got to the surface, tore off the husband's mask, and listened at his nose and mouth for any signs of breathing. He found none.  
Immediately, he began mouth to mouth on the man as he swam him rapidly into the shore.

The wife's head broke the surface a few breaths later and she began to scream, not for her drowned husband, but for the sudden cramps which were knotting up all of her limbs at the major joints. The instructor grabbed her by the hair with his other hand and began shouting for help at the people he saw lounging on the beach..

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris looked up at a sudden shouting from the water.

Other people in black wets suits and other private diving parties had heard it, too, for they began running as fast as they could for the foaming surfline. "Dad! Those three out there are in trouble!" he said pointing out to sea.

"Grab the medical bag, Chris. Bring it with you.." said DeSoto,  
leaping to his feet.

Johnny started to say something, too. "Cap--"

"I know.. Call for help, then grab both oxygen cylinders from the golf cart. Just get going!" he said, sending Chet along with them.

Just ahead, they could see a dive instructor dragging a man,  
divested of his scuba gear, through the violent surf while keeping up his steady artificial respiration.

The worst victim's color now, was turning blue.

Gage and Chet ran for him first while a civilian diver from the beach met up with the struggling second woman fighting the waves a little distance away from the others. He picked her up and carried her into shore by piggy back.

She went limp in relief as he got hold of her.

"I got her head." said Roy, reaching him. "Let's get her laid out flat on the sand. Raise her feet up as soon as you can."

"Are you a doctor?" asked the woman's rescuer.

"No. We're all firemen. Myself and my partner over there are paramedics. We can treat them until help arrives using our emergency medical kits." DeSoto said, helping the man get her out of the water.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The instructor collapsed in exhaustion onto the beach, but waved Chet away briskly when he saw that Kelly had started over to his side. "Just help the diver guy. I'm...ok." he gasped.

Kelly rejoined Johnny over the unconscious man's body. Gage looked up at him. "He's got no pulse either. Start on him first, Chet. Chris's coming with an oxygen tank." he said, unzipping the husband's wetsuit to locate a fast compression landmark. He began some solid CPR.

Kelly stayed on the diver's mouth to mouth, pausing only to drain seawater out of the man's nose when whenever it welled up and out of him. Chet noticed that it was laced with bright blood and pink foam. "He's lung injured, Johnny. If it's barotrauma or just water inundation, I can't tell."

"Doesn't matter. Just .....keep going. That's not going to........be his only.  
problem here." he grunted as he worked. "We've got to.....assume he's developed....the bends... I think his wife... has, too." he said, looking up at Roy where he and Hank knelt in the sand.

He saw that DeSoto had raised the woman's feet up high on his medical pack despite her difficult breathing. ::He's trying to keep nitrogen bubbles from traveling up into her brain or heart.:: he thought. Then Johnny couldn't afford to consider the other things any more while he concentrated on keeping the stricken diver under his hands circulation viable long enough for the coming slim chance that a lifeguard's defibrillator might shock him back to life.

Dimly, he was aware of Cap relaying to a Baywatch crew and the Coast Guard, their camping coordinates using VHF Channel 16 over their ever present hand held radio. ::We're getting into a habit here with calling out for help all the time on vacation now, aren't we?:: his mind thought ironically.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roy was smiling at the woman while Cap gently dissuaded her from pulling off her flowing oxygen mask. "Maam, we're working on your friend now. He's out of the water. I need you to answer a few questions for me while I check you out here to determine your true condition. I'm Roy, a paramedic with the county, and this is my fire station's captain, Hank Stanley. Can you tell me who you and your friend are at all?" he asked her.

The frightened woman yelled out a reply. "God I hurt!.. Make it stop.  
I...can't....br--"

"Easy. Just try to relax. Help's on the way, ma'am." Stanley told her while he quickly dug a hole for her head so that it would tip backwards a bit into the sand so that she could breathe a little better. "There. It'll be easier now. Try to answer Roy again. He needs to know how you're doing, ms., in order to treat you using the best way possible."

The woman began trembling under their hands, but she started talking to them a few seconds later. "My ....name's Callie Johnson. That's ...*gasp* Scott, my...my......uh,...we're m - married.." she got out.

"Ok, good, Callie." said Roy, taking her pulse and respiration count.  
When he was through, he asked, "Mrs. Johnson. Can you tell me where you are?"

"B--beach. I'm at the..beach." she cried.

"That's right. And what day is it?" Cap asked her, helping Roy with gathering details while the paramedic took a fast set of bilateral BPs.

"Sunday.."

"Do you remember anything about the dive you were just doing?" Hank asked her.

The woman's face frowned, the left side of her mouth sagging a bit, as some new confusion set in. "I was....diving?" she asked through the oxygen mask.

The diving instructor, DeSoto and Cap all exchanged glances with each other. The woman had a definite neurological deficit building up.

Roy pulled the stethoscope out of his ears.  
"Ok. Now I want you to follow my finger with your eyes, Callie.  
Don't move your head. Do you understand?" asked Roy.  
Then aside he said. "Cap, put down the time and these BP readings on paper. 110/70 on the left side and 90/50 on the right." he told Hank.

The instructor, watching both groups working nearby, startled.  
"She's stroking out?"

"Perhaps not.." said Roy. "It's too soon to tell yet. These signs just might be temporary effects. How deep were you?"

"Twenty five, maybe thirty feet.." replied the dive instructor. "I never take new divers any deeper than that. The risks are high enough as they are."

Roy learned Callie tracked visually just fine, without any indication of doll's sign. "Can you hear these sounds equally?" he said, snapping his fingers first over her left ear and then over her right.

"Y--yes.." she gasped, breathing hard. Callie's skin was pale and slightly blue in the fingernails despite the pure oxygen upon which she was hyperventilating.

Hank covered her with a thick layer of beach towels for warmth.

DeSoto reached out for Chris's necklace. It was a vial of cologne he knew his son was fond of using. He uncorked it. "Callie, what's this smell?" he asked,  
moving her oxygen mask away long enough to wave the necklace's vial under her nose.

Callie couldn't answer him and she shook her head.  
"I.....I.....I don't know.." she cried. "How's Scott? I.  
I can't see him from here!"

They didn't tell her about him.

DeSoto continued his fine neuro exam. It would save a lot of time at the hyperbaric decompression center, he knew, if this was already completed and out of the way.  
"Smile for me, Callie, then stick out your tongue."

Callie couldn't on the left side. And her tongue deviated to the right side corner of her mouth when she thought that it was sticking out straight.

"That was just a check on certain cranial nerves.  
Now, I'm gripping both of your hands." said Roy gently.  
"Are you left or right handed?"

"Right.." gasped Callie.

"Ok, so you'll be stronger on that side." Cap continued.  
"Squeeze Roy's hands, Callie. Squeeze both of them at the same time. Hard as you can."

Callie was about the same in both grips.

Stanley and Roy tested Callie's body for sensations and ability all the way down to her toes.

They looked at shoulder shrugging, how she could push up or down against pressure put to all of her limbs, whether or not she could bend her knees or move them apart.....

Then they swept her skin, testing sharp and dull responses on it using a ball point pen. She did fine there, discerning normally.

But Callie's Babinski's response was positive, her toes curled upward when Roy stroked both feet from heel to toe along the bottoms of the young woman's feet.

They found that Callie could not distinguish between hot or cold when they ran either an ice cube or a sun-hot rock along her skin anywhere above the waist on her left side. Nor could she successfully touch her left index finger to her nose on command. Her hand kept arching and going wide, only to hit the sand next to her head.

"Ok, we've found the data we need to know about." said Roy after those few minutes. "I've written everything down for the doctor. He'll be better qualified in psychometric medicine than I, Cap." he said to Cap while both firefighters monitored the stressed and fleeing reactions coming and going on Callie's wind drying face.

Chris was right there, too, holding her good hand to comfort her, while he kept tabs on what was left of the oxygen tank's compressed liters as they flowed out to her through their high flow mask. "These men are really good at what they do, Callie.." he soothed. "I should know. My dad's the best paramedic in the county. Soon, you'll have answers for everything that's happening once the doctor begins to treat you and your husband."

Roy smiled when he saw his son using a few fingers to brush away some of the woman's fear with soft gentle strokes to her sandy hair.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soon, transportation came. It was Baywatch Isthmus, arriving by boat after it was decided that even a helicopter flight's low altitude would further complicate both victims' already bends-aggravated conditions.

During the whole forty five minute trip to the USC Catalina Hyperbaric Chamber, the thirty two foot lifeguard boat's Cummings diesel engines, were pushed to their fastest speeds in excess of 30 knots in an attempt to cut down the Golden Hour that they all knew was playing out.

They reached the west end of the island right at noon and were met by a crowd of chamber volunteers who were on call there twenty four hours a day, seven days a week for just this sort of diver emergency.

The male diver was whisked away into the first blue painted chamber while his cardiopulmonary resuscitation was continued aggressively. Johnny agreed to join Leo Fishman,  
the Baywatch paramedic, in recompressing the man for this new attempt to save him. Gage knew that sometimes, on occasion, a diver in full arrest could, upon reaching a critical pressure in the chamber, regain a pulse. He had seen it happen before during other decompression accident sessions in his past.

He was banking on that possible effect for the wife's sake.

-  
Callie on the other hand was being told what to expect before she was loaded up into her own chamber for treatment.

The dive center's doctor explained everything to Callie while the tank was prepared to receive her and the second Baywatch paramedic who would be helping Roy monitor her condition during those hours. "For your treatment, Mrs. Johnson, this chamber will be compressed by sealing its doors and pumping in high-pressure air. You'll keep breathing in this pure oxygen as we go along.  
The combination of high pressure and increased oxygen levels will cure you if the hypoxia you've been suffering hasn't been too severe. These two states will reduce the size of the nitrogen bubbles you're feeling in your arms and legs and they'll go a long way towards restoring the circulation to the affected areas of your body. Any and all excess nitrogen will be completely flushed out of your system.

"You'll be placed inside the chamber in a few minutes, accompanied by these two men who're trained in hyperbaric first aid. I'll be present throughout the entire treatment, standing just outside, and I'll be watching you through the window. If you need me, I can enter the chamber via the entry lock if you have any questions or concerns at any time.

"You'll be brought to the equivalent depth of your dive, Callie, where you'll continue to breathe 100 % oxygen through your mask. Short breaks in the oxygen treatment, where you will breathe the compressed air within the chamber, are included in this treatment to minimise the risk of what we call oxygen toxicity, getting too much oxygen in your blood because of the saturation levels we'll be reaching. The initial treatment lasts approximately 4 hours 45 minutes.

"If no, or only partial improvement is observed in your symptoms then the initial treatment can be extended in time until an improvement is seen.

"If you show signs of deterioration at any point during the initial treatment then the chamber operators will change to a different recompression table. The length of this recompression treatment can vary, but typically lasts between 48 to 72 hours.

"If your symptoms get more advanced and/or resume to deteriorate, or if the record of your diving incident shows that you had severe depth concerns, we'll then fill the chamber with a 50:50 Heliox mixture and starting recompressing you at a depth of 30m until you return to a neurological state as near normal as possible. Are you ready?" concluded the kind faced doctor.

"I...am.." Callie paused and took her instructor's hand. "Thank you for saving me and Scotty. I'm..I'm sorry we screwed up.." she sobbed.

"You didn't. Not from what I saw." said the diver instructor, waiting nearby. "Sometimes these things just happen, Mrs. Johnson. And I'll do everything in my power to be sure that no mistakes or errors were made by anyone concerning your husband's diving gear."

"Ok..It's...*gasp* ok.." Callie sighed, closing her eyes.

Then the injured female diver's care took precedence over everything else.

Jo Swett and Dr. William Greene popped the champagne cork soundly.

The portly nurse poured out nine glasses of the bubbly she had bought at the island market and gave one each to the Station 51 gang, themselves, and the last to Chris DeSoto. Ian declined her invitation, telling the hospital nurse that he wanted to sit out alcohol for the evening so he wouldn't fall asleep on them and miss something truly fun.

"Here's to your absolutely stellar double save, gentlemen." Jo crowed. "Dr. Greene and I are stretching legal confidences a little when we say this, but Mr. and Mrs. Johnson are doing fine tonight and resting comfortably. In a few weeks time, both of them'll be able to continue their vacation where they left off. At the beach.."

"Here! Here!" cried all the firemen.

Chris looked stunned at the drink in his hand, but then he caught his father's wink.

"Just a sip." Roy said. "Because it's such a special occasion. Then give it to Marco. His leg's itching him tonight."

"Ok.. Down the hatch.." said Chris, holding the glass over his mouth as if he was going to pour the whole thing into his gullet. But then he desisted, taking only a small taste.  
"Thanks, dad." he said, handing the rest of it to a scratching,  
grimacing Lopez.

Chet was grimacing, too, for a different reason. "D*mned sunburn.  
I forgot how clear the air gets over the island." he said, trying to reach an itch on his back with a few fingernails.

"I told you to use sunscreen, Chet, but you wouldn't listen to me."  
said Roy, grinning.

"No, but I am using Marco's calamine lotion now..." Chet retorted.

"You are?" said Lopez, setting down his empty glass onto a tabletop. "Chet, that salve's supposed to be just for me.  
What am I going to do when it runs out?"

"Use these..." said Bill Greene, handing over a case of new bottles over to Marco from where it had been sitting behind the couch out of sight.

"Gee. Thanks, doc. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. The city's decided to pick up all of your medical bills, Marco. Let's just say for services rendered in the line of off-duty duty performed by the rest of these fine fellows in your group." he winked.

"No kidding..." said Cap, brightening up from his place on a deck chair near them. The Casino Ballroom was lit up like a jewel on Avalon's coastline behind him.

"I'm not. " said Bill. "Steve Hoefs lined up getting funds to cover them all at City Hall. He did that, in fact, as soon as he heard about those two divers you guys helped rescue through Baywatch's watch commander."

"Tell him thanks, doc, from all of us." Lopez said, deeply moved.

"I think he already knows, Marco. He already knows. Firefighters do read each other's minds sometimes, don't they?" smiled Jo in amusement.

FIN

Episode Thirty Three

California Dreamin'

Emergency Theater Live

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Photo: Roy and Johnny at an airport at night.  
Photo: Catalina Avalon firemen at night.

Photo: Chris and Roy treat an old man with O2.

Photo: Johnny running on top of a plane.

Photo: 1959 Catalina ambulance.

Photo: A Catalina, Avalon house.

Photo: Pounding surf at Avalon Harbor.

Photo: An Avalon mansion's living room.

Photo: A diver discovered unconscious underwater.

Photo: An instructor giving mouth to mouth to a diver.

Photo: A swimmer carrying out a distressed woman in trouble.  
Photo: Distant divers in wetsuits on a beach.

Photo: An active cardiopulmonary resuscitation attempt.

Photo: A Baywatch boat landing at a diver rescue chamber.

Photo: Hyperbaric paramedics and doctors working over a man.

Photo: Johnny and Roy talking to a blonde haired woman outside.

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